


Find Your Way Home

by mandzilkos



Series: In This World So Cruel, I Think You're So Cool [4]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Depression, Kid Fic, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, get ready, this is a massive kid fic people!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-05-04 00:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 125,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos
Summary: In an effort to get people to lookinto each other’s eyes more,and also to appease the mutes,the government has decidedto allot each person exactly one hundredand sixty-seven words, per day.When the phone rings, I put it to my earwithout saying hello. In the restaurantI point at chicken noodle soup.I am adjusting well to the new way.Late at night, I call my long distance lover,proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.I saved the rest for you.When she doesn’t respond,I know she’s used up all her words,so I slowly whisper I love youthirty-two and a third times.After that, we just sit on the lineand listen to each other breathe.Jeffrey McDaniel, “The Quiet World”





	1. Opening Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This is just a brief introduction to part 4 and some disclaimers. I will start posting this very soon and again thank you all sooo much for being so patient with me!
> 
> If you haven't, please help me fill up [this survey](https://goo.gl/forms/a93no4KvIw5M4yPP2). Thank you!
> 
> I will be back soon and I would love to hear from you anytime, whether it's on here or on tumblr (mandzilkos). To everyone having their finals, good luck!

– This is set in the years 2021 and 2022. 2021 will focus more on Paulo/Alvaro’s relationship and 2022 more on Isco/Franco.

– That is because they are dorks and also I am a dork.

– The first chapter (or prologue) will be an update on the 4 years between part 3 and part 4.

– For the start of this part, everyone remains where they were at the end of part 3, to avoid any confusion i.e. Paulo is in Juve, Alvaro is in Chelsea, etc. 

– Obviously, because it’s set in the future, all the footballing events are from my imagination. 

– Also obviously, Drama doesn’t exist in this universe. Bubu does, though, even though he seems to have disappeared from the surface of the earth irl. Anyone knows where he is? HMU

– Surprisingly, Spain and Italy still have very...traditional laws regarding LGBT and adoption. So I broke some of them. Laws don’t exist here. So please don't be alarmed when something 'illegal' happens in the story.

– Make of that what you want :) 

– Personally, part 3 was difficult to write because there was no storyline (as one of you has also pointed out to me) and also no ~drama~. So part 4 will make up double for those. Hehe

– Part 4 will be more focused on like, life in general, as opposed to football. The four of them would be 28, 29, and 32 (he is secretly 72) and after all the highlights of the first two parts being football, I think it’s just fair that this final leg is about family, etc. 

– Also, Junior will be 7! Soon he will be off to university.

– I can’t really think of anything else to say now, so as usual, I’ll just add them as I go. This is just a little disclaimer about what you can expect.

– Lastly, I’ll be away until the end of May and will not be writing, so I’m sorry in advance. I’ll see youuuu in June! Thank you so much!


	2. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henlo again!  
> I'm back! Just a little refresher, this is set in the future, so everything football-wise is fictional. I know in my previous works I have tended to make it realistic and matched the footballing events to real life, but this is not possible for this part (unless I am a witch, which I actually am, but not that good of one, so). As promised, the prologue is an update on the three years between the end of part 3 and the start of part 4.
> 
> I am currently not going to answer/address anything about the major character death warning. You'll just have to wait and see! 
> 
> The chapter titles will follow song lyrics again. I will tell you which song they are from, and as usual those may not necessarily be the theme song of the chapter. And speaking of songs, I have prepared a playlist again for this part. I will post it in a few chapters!
> 
> Thank you for your support over all these years (omg, it has literally been YEARS) and I hope you will enjoy this final part. Love always.

**2018**

Alvaro received a lot of offers but he didn’t accept any of them because none of them were from Juventus. 

Paulo went to the World Cup. Argentina didn’t win.

Isco went to the World Cup. Spain didn’t win.

Franco didn’t go to the World Cup. He decided to travel to Russia and follow the Spanish team, which turned out to be the worst idea he’d ever had because he was stuck alone with Alvaro for the entire month.

Junior turned four and started preschool in Málaga, where Sonia and the rest of the family could take care of him. Franco and Isco still saw him whenever they could.

Isco seemed to be more relaxed about Junior being with Sonia; not that he wasn’t before, but he seemed to be less tense about Sonia having to deal with disapproval. The both of them decided that after preschool, Junior’s education would be fully in Madrid.

\------

**2019**

Franco turned thirty this year. He continued planning parties for Junior, for Isco, and even for Paulo and Alvaro. And  _ Sonia.  _ He thought this would be a nice thing to do after he settled down in a few years.

Isco, though, took over the reins for Franco’s 30th birthday party. It was the biggest party Franco had  _ ever seen _ . He was almost afraid of the number of people that were present. But every time Franco looked around the room and saw his Isco, in his white buttoned shirt and khaki pants, he fell in love all over again. 

Alvaro was in high demand again. So was Paulo, but no common team reached out to the both of them, so they stayed where they were.

Alvaro had a minor depressive episode about whether he and Paulo would ever play together again. Paulo had one too, thinking no team wanted them both at once because they couldn’t have gay players on their team. As true as night gave way to day, they seemed to settle down after summer, after the transfer window had closed.

Isco and Franco didn’t have this problem because no team was foolish enough to think that Franco was on the same level as Isco – or so Franco thought. Isco constantly told him to stop being demeaning to himself. He told Franco every night before he slept that Franco was the most amazing person he had ever met.

\------

** 2020 **

Franco started volunteering at an orphanage in Seville. He spent every free minute he had there – not because he wanted to get into anyone’s good books, but because he was just so  _ happy _ to see all the kids there.

Isco went with him whenever he had time to be in Seville. He didn’t take Junior because that seemed a little weird. Franco didn’t say anything about it. Isco’s favourite part was sitting in the back corner watching Franco read a book to the room full of children, who like any other child who’d crossed paths with Franco, seemed so deeply enchanted by him.

“Do you have a favourite?” Isco asked him once.

“No,” Franco said.

“Really? You’re bluffing.”

“I don’t have a favourite.”

“You must have a favourite.”

“Well, I don’t. Do you?”

“A little bit.”

Franco nudged him in the shoulder. “Which one?”

“That little boy with the bowl cut and the super gigantic blue eyes.”

Franco burst into adoring laughter. “Yeah, he’s so cute.”

“Would you like a boy?”

“I don’t have a preference.”

“You’re impossible.”

Franco scoffed. “ _ You’re  _ impossible.”

Then he stomped off to the playground to bother the kids and Isco was left to watch him again. 

Isco wasn’t bothered that Franco hadn’t given him an answer. Because after four years of being together, Isco already knew. Even near the beginning, Isco had already known.

Franco was totally going to be a girl dad.

  
  



	3. 'Cause Honey Your Soul Can Never Grow Old, It's Evergreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I made a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7LuFOivbseoZ6nLZ8zJHa7?si=hyjjdh7USzmfanhvzDY7nA) for this fic as well, do check it out if you want and let me know what you think about it :) Thank you!
> 
> Title is from Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran.

New Year’s Eve was one of the rare parties that no one let Franco plan.

Isco knew it was because everyone just wanted a lazy day home and not have to bother about catering and inviting whoever. But he didn’t tell Franco that. Just told Franco maybe it was time for him to take a break after the best Christmas party Isco had ever experienced.

Franco just went along with it, fortunately – actually, he always went along with anything Isco suggested. He was such an angel. Isco hoped that they were things he wanted to do too, and not that he was just trying to be Isco’s bitch.

Anyway, Franco spent most of the day at the orphanage, giving out new clothes and having a little party with the children. Isco went with him, not because he had no choice but because seeing Franco so radiant was all he needed to see out an amazing 2020.

He brought Junior along for the first time, and he sat perched on Isco’s arm the whole time even though he was way too big for that by his age. God. Isco couldn’t believe he was stuck carrying a six-year-old around the entire day.

“Papa,” Junior said when Isco put him down on a bench with two boxes of juice. He wiped Junior’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “What school is this?”

“It’s not a school,” Isco smiled. “It’s...it’s a place for children without parents.”

“Without parents?” Junior asked. “Why?”

“Many reasons. Maybe their parents can’t take care of them, or their parents aren’t around anymore.”

“So like their parents don’t want them?”

“No, not always.”

Silence from Junior. Which was rare for him.

“Papa will you ever not want me?”

Isco laughed. He couldn’t help but. “No,” he said softly. “I will always want you. Mama will always want you, too.”

“And papi?”

“Mmhmm. And papi.”

“Papa,” Junior said again. “Does anyone ever take these children home?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” Isco said. “If they’re very, very lucky. Then they get to go to a new home and they get to have parents who care for them.”

“Cool.”

Silence again. Junior slurped his juice until he was done, then started on the second box.

“How’d you feel about having a little brother?” Isco asked. “Or a little sister?”

Junior turned to him slowly, chewing on his straw in a way that would make Franco burst into flames. “From here?” he asked slowly.

“Just a brother or sister in general,” Isco said. “Or, okay. What about from here? Would you want one?”

“Yeah!” Junior exclaimed. He jabbed a finger at a little girl running by. “I want that one.”

Isco burst into laughter again. “No, not like that,” he said, sitting down and pulling Junior into his lap. “I mean, would you be okay if me and papi had another child, and we’ll have to take care of him or her, and you’ll get to help?”

Junior suddenly burst into little giggles which confused Isco until he said, “Papa, you’re scared I’ll be jealous!”

“No I am not.”

“Papa you are,” Junior cooed. “I won’t be jealous. I’ll be a good boy. And I’ll take care of my little brother or sister.”

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. “You’re such a good boy. You’re an angel. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Junior beamed at him and requested for a kiss, which Isco gave.

They saw Franco start bounding towards them from a distance, only to be intercepted by a little girl who wanted to wish him a happy new year. Franco squatted down to talk to her and gave her a big hug. Then she left and he made his way towards Isco and Junior.

“Papi what time are we leaving?” Junior asked. “I’m hungry.”

Franco laughed. He poked a hole in his juice box and started slurping from it. “Maybe after I finish my juice.”

“Okay but I’m hungry.”

Franco finished his juice in like, one giant slurp. Junior finished his at the same time, and the both of them just. Just sat there, side by side next to Isco, and slurped on their empty boxes of juice like it wasn’t annoying that they were making, like, a really loud noise.

“Oh my God,” Isco said over all the commotion. He realised that Junior had never slurped on empty juice boxes before – well, before Franco had appeared in his life.

“What?” Franco asked after the briefest pause.

“He learnt that from you!” Isco exclaimed, snatching Junior’s empty juice box, then Franco’s. “The slurping! Out of all the good things he could’ve learnt from you, he learnt the slurping!”

“I don’t slurp,” Franco retorted.

“You do, and now he does too, and it’s _annoying_.”

Franco gave this really violent pout. He stood up and gave Junior’s hand a tug. “C’mon. Let’s go find more juice.”

“But I’m hungry!” Junior whined.

Franco tickled him all the way to the car, which they drove into the city to get lunch at a cosy restaurant.

“I think going to the orphanage was the best decision I made in 2020,” Franco said over their shared dessert, a slice of apple pie.

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. “I think so, too.”

“You do?”

“Mmhmm. Hey. Franco.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember I asked you when you thought you’d be ready for a kid, and you said three or four years?”

“Mmhmm. Yeah, I do.”

“It’s been three years.”

Franco smiled. “You counted. Gross.”

“I just, you know,” Isco shrugged. “I thought...have you ever thought about, like, putting your name in? To foster a child. To...to adopt a child.”

“You think…” Franco gulped loudly. “You think I could do that?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“What about Junior?”

“I asked him earlier. He laughed at me ‘cause he thought I was afraid he’d be jealous.”

Franco laughed softly. “He’s okay with it?”

“He is. He’s even picked out a little sister.”

Franco smiled at the slice of pie. “You think I’m ready?” he asked, barely audibly.

“I think you are, yeah,” Isco smiled. He leaned over and kissed Franco on the cheek. “And I’ll always be here.”

Franco’s gaze wandered Isco’s face as he threaded his fingers through Isco’s hair. His hand rested gently on Isco’s shoulder as he said, “This year I started going to the orphanage and it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. So maybe...maybe in 2021, I’ll get to foster a child, and that’ll be my new best thing.”

Isco nodded. He pressed his lips softly on Franco’s, and they tasted like apple pie and bolognaise and it made Isco feel so happy.

They went home to Franco’s place and spent a quiet evening with both their families. Isco watched Franco busy himself making sure everyone was comfortable, making sure everyone constantly had their drink refilled and things to snack on, and entertaining Fausto and Junior. He watched Franco do a million things at once and he wondered once again what he’d ever done to deserve such a beautiful soul in his life.

Franco had dozed off on Isco’s shoulder by the time the clock struck midnight. He was startled awake with a grunt when everyone clinked their glasses together.

“Hmm?” he asked no one in particular, accidentally jostling Junior, who had his sleepy head in Franco’s lap. Franco blinked at the TV for a while. “Oh. Happy New Year.”

Then he kissed Isco, so sloppy and hard that Isco almost fell backwards. It made everyone who’d been looking at them laugh.

“Another one,” Isco said. “For the camera.”

Franco obliged. Isco posted it on Instagram with the caption, _To our best year yet. #2021_

Franco beamed when he saw the photo. Junior sleepily asked him what was going on and Franco passed him the phone. He didn’t get mad when Junior started scrolling through Franco’s Instagram feed; in fact, Franco frequently let Junior do that, now that he was old enough not to go around accidentally tapping things.

A few minutes later they fell asleep again, curled up together. Isco caught the phone before it fell on the floor. He used it to take a photo of the both of them, mouths wide open, and posted it on Franco’s Instagram story.

And suddenly, within the first five minutes of the New Year, Isco had thought of the perfect birthday gift for his Franco.

\------

Since Alvaro had moved to England, he hadn’t had many chances to spend New Year’s with Paulo.

So 2021 was ushered in just like the three years before it – a small, cosy gathering with their parents and no siblings, in Alvaro’s apartment in London, sitting by the window and talking about life.

Paulo fell asleep way before midnight. It had been nowhere even _close_ to midnight. He fell asleep right after dinner.

Alvaro felt a pang of hurt in his chest as he sat there, Paulo’s head bobbing on his shoulder, realising that Paulo was only so tired because he’d spent all his winter break travelling back and forth to see Alvaro.

He tried half carrying, half dragging Paulo into the room, but Paulo awoke halfway there.

“Where are we going?” he asked groggily as he blinked. “Hey, it’s the new year already?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro laughed. “‘Bout half an hour in.”

“I haven’t gotten my kiss yet,” Paulo said sadly.

Alvaro kissed him softly on the lips, but he kept keening up for more which made Alvaro blush a deep red because he felt like everyone was just staring at them. He discovered that they weren’t, in fact, when he pulled away.

“I love you,” Paulo whispered.

“I love you, too.”

“Happy New Year, Alvi.”

Alvaro smiled. “Happy New Year. Our twelfth.”

Paulo pecked him on the lips again. “We’ve known each other almost half our lives.”

“And you are still the same tiny boy.”

Paulo scoffed and punched Alvaro in the shoulder. He was fully awake after that, skittering around their parents and wanting to take photos with everybody. And Alvaro. Alvaro suddenly felt so _sad_ that he was just going to be gone again in a few days, that he couldn’t wake up to Paulo’s gentle snoring in the middle of the night and trying to count Paulo’s breaths, and nudging Paulo when Paulo forgot to inhale.

“Hey,” Paulo shoulder-checked him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Alvaro said truthfully. It was a pang that he had long gotten used to. “Just thinking.”

Paulo smiled encouragingly. “Alvi, this year is gonna be our year.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You told me 2021 is gonna be our year.”

And he remembered. Of course Paulo remembered. The little romantic piece of shit.

Paulo seemed to take Alvaro’s silence as a sign to move on with things. He grabbed the 2021-shaped sunglasses from the table and popped them on. “C’mon, time to party!”

“Those glasses have been pointless since 2009,” Alvaro pointed out.

“You’re jealous ‘cause I look so cool in them.”

Alvaro scoffed because that was kinda true. But he refused to put that nonsense on his face, so he sat back on the armchair and sipped his cup of juice, which was the only drink he was allowed to have besides gatorade, and watched his Paulo try his hardest not to dance like a child.

He soon fell asleep again on his mom’s shoulder, his 2021 glasses slipping off his face. His mom took them off for him and adjusted his head on her shoulder. Alvaro went and sat next to them.

“He’s still just a little boy,” Alvaro said softly.

She laughed and moved to tuck some of Paulo’s overgrown fringe behind his ear. “Isn’t he?”

“I hope he stays like this forever.”

Paulo’s mom laughed again. “He’ll always be my little boy.”

“Do you like it in London?” Alvaro asked. “You know, after spending all your last three New Years here.”

“It’s nice,” Paulo’s mom said. “It’s a little busy, though.”

Alvaro smiled. “Yeah, Paulo seems to like how busy it is.”

“But you don’t?”

Alvaro shook his head sheepishly. “It’s just a little bit too much. But as long as Paulo likes it. Yeah.”

There was a sudden soft chuckle from Paulo. “Talking ‘bout me, huh?” he said sleepily, then fumbled around with his hands until he found Alvaro’s. He was holding it tightly as he fell back into slumber.

Paulo’s mom laughed. “So,” she said softly. “This year gonna be your year? You and him?”

Alvaro felt himself blush a deep red. “He talks to you about…”

“About him wanting to marry ‘the best boy in the world’? Yeah.”

“Well,” Alvaro fidgeted with Paulo’s fingers. “I mean. We’ve known each other forever, and. And I feel like I’m just gonna know Paulo for the rest of my life. So...yeah, of course I would, but I don’t feel like...like there’s a need to rush it.”

Paulo’s mom smiled. “Yeah.”

“I mean, even if it’s not this year, then...then it’s next year, or the next, or the next. We have the rest of our lives.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo’s mom said softly. “I know you’ll love him for the rest of your life. But if you keep thinking like that, that you have all the time in the world – then one day, you’re just going to end up taking him for granted.”

Alvaro shifted his gaze down to his and Paulo’s hands, fingers intertwined. “I’m not –”

“I know you’re not,” she interrupted, but softly. Kindly. “But it’s a slippery slope. You don’t see yourself taking him for granted. But if you just keep thinking you’ll have him forever, then eventually you’ll just not realise what your actions make him feel.”

Alvaro nodded. “Yeah.”

“I know you’re a good boy. The best boy in the world,” she smiled. “I’m just saying...as a mom. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said again. “Thank you.”

“But don’t do it if you’re not ready,” she whispered. “Paulo will understand.”

“I don’t think…” Alvaro started. “I don’t think that – that I’m ready right now. While we’re living in different places.”

“I understand that,” she said kindly. “Maybe when you two move to a common place again. Alvaro. I’m not trying to rush you or anything and I hope you don’t take this as that. You two have always lived in your own world and you have to continue to do that, okay? Don’t let me or anyone else tell you what to do.”

Alvaro nodded. He mustered a smile for Paulo’s mom and she smiled back at him, and she had the warmest smile and Alvaro realised in that instant where Paulo got all his kindness from.

“I’m very glad that one day I get to really call you my son,” she said.

Alvaro leaned over to give her a giant hug, which made her laugh again because he squeezed all the air out of her body.

Then she left to hang with Alvaro’s parents and Alvaro was left alone with his Paulo again.

He pulled Paulo onto his shoulder and wrapped him in a tight hug. Paulo didn’t really stir, partly because he was so sleepy and partly because he was a heavy sleeper anyway. Alvaro kissed him on the top of his head.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Paulo didn’t reply, just smiled and pushed his head further into Alvaro’s chest.

The last thing Alvaro remembered seeing before he fell asleep with Paulo’s soft hair as a pillow was their parents, all three of them, standing at the kitchen counter and cooing at Paulo and Alvaro.

\------

Franco was glad that Isco let him have a quiet 32nd birthday. It wasn’t like he particularly liked getting older.

His teammates took him out for some tapas after training. Franco went home on his own and saw, just like he did so many times before, Isco and Junior sitting on his front stoop with matching smiles on their little bean faces.

“Hi,” Franco smiled when he saw them, looking so _adorable_ just sitting there and looking up at him.

“Papi happy birthday!” Junior screamed. He was. He was still so feisty even though he was so big.

“Thank you,” Franco squatted down to meet him. “You got a present for me?”

“Yes!” Junior said. He leaned forward and kissed Franco on the cheek.

“That’s it?” Franco laughed. “Okay. Thank you.”

Junior burst into a fit of giggles, then reached behind Isco and retrieved what looked like a wrapped medium-sized Lego set. He presented it proudly to Franco. “Gotcha!” he said.

“What is it?” Franco asked. He shook the parcel and the Lego pieces rattled inside. He pretended not to realise.

“I don’t know, you have to open it,” Junior said.

“Will you open it with me later?”

“Yeah!” Junior said excitedly. “And we can build it together.”

“Build it together, huh?” Franco said, standing up and scooping Junior in a sloppy hug so he could drag him inside. Isco followed suit. “So it’s something we can build?”

Junior went quiet for a while, then scoffed. “I don’t know!”

Franco burst into laughter but Junior started to pout so he let it go. He put his bag down in the hallway and found Isco’s hand, pulling him closer. “Hi,” he mouthed against Isco’s lips.

Isco’s lips curled upwards. “Hi,” he whispered. “Happy birthday, old man.”

“Thank you,” Franco gave his cheek a little pinch.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“I, um,” Isco pulled away to hold Franco by the cheeks. “I brought – Sonia, she’s in the living room. We, uh...we wanna talk to you about something. I hope you don’t mind.”

Franco gulped; unfortunately it made a really weird, loud sound which made Isco smile again. “Okay,” Franco said hesitantly. “Yeah.”

He was tempted to ask what it was about, but. But Isco had grabbed Junior and went straight ahead, so Franco didn’t stop them. He couldn’t help but wonder, though. Maybe it was about Junior? Maybe Isco and Sonia had changed their mind about letting Junior be so close to Franco. Maybe it was about the whole ‘papi’ thing. It’d been going on for more than three years, but who knew? It was never too late for them to change their minds, especially since Junior was getting bigger and understood more of these things.

Sonia was sitting on the couch with an envelope in her hand. Isco sat next to her, so Franco settled nervously on the edge of the armchair.

“Happy birthday,” Sonia said happily. Franco wasn’t sure what she was so happy about.

“Thank you,” he said anyway.

“We brought something for you,” she said, handing Franco the envelope. “Open it.”

The envelope was a little padded, like there was a stack of papers inside. Franco carefully tore the slit open and pulled it out.

_LEGAL GUARDIANSHIP IN THE KINGDOM OF SPAIN._

It was followed by this entire _block_ of words – or at least, Franco thought, because his vision had suddenly gone blurry.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s for you,” Sonia said. She used her thumb to quickly flip through the pages. “There’s some guidelines and laws, and then right at the end there’s some nomination forms for you to fill in. We’ve already filled our parts.”

“It’s for –“ Franco stammered. “For, um. About Junior?”

“Well, I don’t think Isco has any other children,” Sonia laughed, then turned to Isco. “Wait, do you?”

“Hey!” Isco slapped her on the shoulder.

“So, um,” Franco said. His hands were _shaking_. “You want me to be Junior’s legal guardian?”

“Yeah,” Sonia smiled. “I mean, he spends a lot of time with you, too. So it makes sense that...that sometimes you should be able to make certain decisions for him.”

“I’m not – I mean – you don’t have to do this.”

“We want to,” Isco said. He moved to the armchair and held Franco’s hand. “Our gift to you.”

“But – really?”

“Yeah,” Sonia said again. “Now you’re really his papi.”

“Aww,” Franco said softly. And he suddenly felt like he was going to fucking _cry_ so he buried his face in Isco’s shirt using a hug as an excuse. “Oh, you guys.”

“Can I get in there?” Sonia asked.

Franco opened his arms for the both of them and hugged them tightly against him. They were both. Both such amazing people and Franco didn’t understand what kind of luck he’d had to have ever gotten to meet them.

“Thank you so much,” Franco whispered. “Thank you. Please don’t – don’t feel like you’re obliged to do this just because I’m dating Isco and –“

“Dating?” Isco asked, chuckling against Franco’s hair. “We’re still dating? I mean, that’s still where we’re at?”

“No,” Franco sobbed. “Oh, you get what I mean.”

“We don’t feel obliged to do it,” Sonia assured him. “I mean, it’s good for Junior, too. And we think you’re the best person to do it.”

“Happy birthday,” Isco kissed him on the top of his head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Okay, getting kinda weird here,” Sonia said, pulling herself out of the hug. “I’m gonna play with Junior.”

“Thank you,” Franco said again, this time just to Isco.

“Hey, stop it,” Isco smiled. He grasped Franco’s chin, tilting it up so he could kiss Franco. “You are very welcome.”

“So I’m like – Junior’s gonna be kinda like my son?”

Isco laughed. “He’s long been kinda like your son, don’t you think?”

“But now it’s official.”

“Franco, you’re gonna be such a great dad.”

“You think so?” Franco asked. He was just. Just suddenly so overwhelmed. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Could I still – you know, is it still okay if I...try to get a foster child?”

“Of course, why not?”

“I just, like,” Franco gestured to thin air. “Does Sonia know?”

“She does. She’s super excited about Junior having a younger sister or brother.”

“Really?”

“She’ll tell you herself,” Isco said, then before Franco could stop him, yelled, “Hey, Sonia! Franco wants to ask you something.”

“Alarcon!”

“What is it?” Sonia asked, returning to her position on the couch.

Isco gave Franco a little ‘go ahead’ tilt of the head. Franco said, very unsteadily, “Are you okay with me fostering a child?”

Sonia beamed. “Of course!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And I think maybe, you know. Maybe this whole guardianship thing might make it easier for you to get a foster kid.”

“You think so?”

“It should be,” she said encouragingly, then suddenly started making little grabby motions with her hands. “Oh, do you think you’ll get a little girl? Can I help look after her? Oh, imagine a tiny girl with little pigtails!”

Franco laughed. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

Sonia sat there beaming at him for a while before she scurried away and returned with another wrapped box. She handed it to Franco. “I got you this,” she said. “I know they got you something but I heard you like puzzles so I bought you one.”

“You got me a _gift_?” Franco asked incredulously. He held up the envelope – which he realised he was _still_ holding and was now a little soggy because his hands were sweating. “You mean you thought this wasn’t enough?”

Sonia laughed. She turned to Isco. “He’s cute. I can see why you’re in love with him.”

She left the present on the coffee table and returned to Junior, who had assembled his complicated-looking train set and wanted to race Sonia.

“Alarcon,” Franco said. “Thank you so much.”

Isco smiled. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m just. Just a little overwhelmed.”

Isco used his thumbs to wipe Franco’s cheeks. “You’re so cute when you cry,” he cooed, and then laughed. “But don’t cry. Don’t cry, okay? What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just,” Franco pushed his face into Isco’s shoulder. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

Isco laughed again like he just wanted to pacify Franco. “Mmhmm. You are.”

“This is the best birthday ever.”

“It’s just going to get better,” Isco whispered.

Franco pulled him down for a kiss. His lips were. They were so soft. And Franco had been kissing them for what felt like his entire life but he thought there was still no way he would ever get sick of them.

He wasn’t sure if it was just the fall of relief from the anxiety he’d felt right before speaking to Sonia, but Franco was suddenly really tired. He took the envelope and the two gifts and brought them back to his room, sitting at the edge of the bed in his dirty jeans and pulling the papers out again.

It was chock-full of words that Franco was still too overwhelmed to read. Legal implications and entitlements. Possible scenarios. A few pages of forms.

Isco peeked into the room when Franco was staring at the words on the pages trying to make sense of them. He entered quietly, shutting the door behind him and gently sitting down next to Franco so the bed dipped only a tiny bit.

“You know you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, right?” he asked softly.

Franco didn’t blame him. Franco’s very – very _nervous_ reaction could very easily be mistaken as reluctance. “I really want to,” he said.

“If you’re worried, it all says that you get to make decisions when the both of us are unable to,” Isco said. “So...like, when we’re...gone. Or not around. Yeah.”

Franco nodded, returning his gaze to the papers in his hands. “Cool, yeah. Maybe...maybe give me a few days?”

“All the time you need, Franco,” Isco kissed him on the nose. “It’s...it’s a big thing.”

“I love you so much,” Franco whispered. “You know that? I say it so much that...that maybe it’s sort of lost that same thrill it had when I first started saying it. But I love you, Alarcon, I always, always will.”

Isco kept Franco’s gaze as he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips on Franco’s. He softly worked Franco’s lips open as one of his hands slid their way into Franco’s hair and the other gently took the papers out of Franco’s hands and placed them on the bed. He climbed halfway into Franco’s lap and just. Just hung there, off Franco’s neck, and gently sucked the rest of Franco’s face off.

There was suddenly a knock at the door, then Sonia saying, “Hey, guys.”

“Oh,” Franco sighed lowly as they pulled apart.

Isco smiled and gave him one last long kiss on the lips. “Yeah?” he called.

Sonia pushed the door open and popped her head in. Junior followed suit at her waist level. “I'll take Junior out for the day so you two can spend Franco’s birthday together.”

“You don't have to do that, stay with us,” Franco said.

“Nah, he keeps screaming for fried chicken,” Sonia said, smushing his face with her hand. “I’ll take him back tonight. Um, I mean, maybe – is there a place for me to crash?”

“Yeah, there’s an extra bed in the guestroom with Junior’s,” Franco said.

“Cool,” she grinned. “See ya.”

Then she shut the door again and left Isco and Franco in silence.

“So,” Isco said. “What do you wanna do?”

Franco sighed again. “I wanna take a shower.”

Isco laughed like he’d just _known_ that was coming. “Mmhmm, and then?”

“And then I just wanna lie in bed with you for the entire day.”

“Okay,” Isco smiled. “Let’s go shower.”

“I changed my mind. I want a bath.”

“Okay, a bath. With your weird bath salts.”

“They’re not weird. You just don’t know how to appreciate them.”

“That’s good. That’s what I’m going to say the next time you call me weird.”

“Pfft,” Franco scoffed, pushing Isco ahead of him. “Run me a bath.”

“You think just ‘cause it’s your birthday, you can order me around?”

“Mmhmm.”

They continued arguing as Isco drew a bath and sprinkled Franco’s lavender bath salts in the water. And as they took all their clothes off and sunk into the bath together. They even had a little feet fight until Franco whined that they were wasting scented water.

“You know, a bath is kinda just like stewing in your own dirt, isn’t it?” Isco remarked.

“That’s why we shower first –” Franco started. “We didn’t shower! I forgot to shower. It’s all your fault. You distracted me.”

“We can shower now.”

“The water is already dirty.”

“It’s your birthday. You should relax and let it go.”

Franco sighed and slid lower into the bath. “Okay. I’m relaxed.”

Isco curled his fingers around Franco’s ankles and kneaded the knots out of them, his tiny hands surprisingly strong. Franco closed his eyes and melted against the walls of the tub. He almost dozed off as Isco worked on his feet, then his calves.

He pried his eyes open halfway through to see how Isco was doing, only to catch Isco just gazing across at him with his eyes glazed over with affection. He didn’t notice Franco staring at him at first, but shot Franco a charming smile once he realised.

Franco smiled and shut his eyes again. He was thirty-two. That was – for all the planning Franco did, he didn’t actually register that he would _age_ along with everything that was happening. In a few years, he wouldn’t even be playing football anymore. That thought both terrified and excited him.

“In thirty years, when I’m sixty-two, will you still love me?”

Isco chuckled. The water lapped higher up against Franco’s chest as Isco made his way across the bath and lodged himself into Franco’s shoulder. He gave Franco’s collar bone a kiss, then rested his chin on it. “I will love you more every day until then.”

“Only until then?” Franco murmured against Isco’s wet hair.

“Until you’re a hundred and two.”

They ended up having sex in the bath, to no one’s surprise at all. Then they changed the bath water and Franco ended up feeling and smelling like fresh lavender.

The rest of the day was literally spent in bed. They crawled under the covers and just lay there talking, occasionally drifting in and out of sleep. And then challenging each other over who could hold their breath longer. And then challenging each other over who could stay awake the longest. Franco’s cheeks hurt so much from all the laughing he was doing.

He didn’t remember falling asleep that last time but when he woke up it was evening and a little dim in the room. He turned on the bedside lamp and turned to see Isco with his eyes peacefully shut.

He leaned over and kissed Isco on his cheeks. Then his nose. Then his forehead, little pecks down his hairline. The front of his ear. Isco squirmed and giggled, but didn’t open his eyes. When Franco turned on his back again, Isco moved to lie on Franco’s chest, his ear pressed right where Franco’s heart was.

Isco’s stupid bedhead was all over Franco’s face. Franco swept all his hair aside but it was so _unruly_ it all just popped upright again and. Okay, Isco’s bedhead was a little intriguing. Franco tried pressing it down several times but it didn’t work. He ran his finger along Isco’s hairline again. After all this time it was still the same wonky shape.

“What are you doing?” Isco asked sleepily, curling his arm more tightly around Franco’s waist.

“Interesting head,” Franco murmured.

Isco laughed softly, rocking Franco’s entire body. “Which head?”

Franco slapped him on his – well, his head. “Minx.”

“Minx head?” Isco mumbled. “Hmm.”

“I’m hungry,” Franco said, wanting to push Isco off him but not having the heart to do so. “Let’s get dinner.”

Isco opened his eyes and turned so he was facing the ceiling, still lying on Franco’s chest. He blinked a few times, smiling when he saw the little glow in the dark stars that had only accumulated up there over the years.

“Sonia will get dinner,” he said after a short silence.

“How do you know that?” Franco asked.

“She will. She’s like that,” Isco said, then couldn’t hold it together and burst into laughter. “Also because I texted her earlier.”

Franco tutted. He couldn’t understand why his boyfriend was. Was like _this._

He watched Isco’s head rise and fall with Franco’s breaths. He saw Isco’s eyelashes sweep up and down each time Isco blinked at the stars above him. He felt Isco's fingers fiddling with the hem of Franco’s shorts, and the other hand gently clasping Franco’s hand, on his tummy.

And he thought he could spend the rest of his life just lying there with his Isco, doing absolutely nothing.

“Do you believe there's a heaven?” Isco asked, his gaze still fixed heavily on the stars.

“Like a place we go to when we die?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really,” Franco said. “Scientifically, no.”

“Why not?”

“It can't be proven.”

Isco smiled. “I hope there is a heaven,” he said.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled, pleased that Isco was comfortable enough to have his own disagreeing opinion. “Kinda like a place for our spirits?”

“Mmhmm,” Isco said. “I really feel like...you know, that we're not just a sack of flesh and bones. And it’s kinda sad that...when someone’s gone, so is their entire mind. Their entire conscience.”

“Maybe there's somewhere our conscience goes when we die.”

“Like that Black Mirror episode?”

Franco chuckled. “Yeah. That'd be nice. We could live there together.”

“Where do you think it is?” Isco asked. “Like if there's a heaven. Where is it in the universe?”

“I don't know,” Franco whispered. It was a good question. “Maybe in one of the empty patches of sky no one can explain.”

Isco smiled again and he looked contented. “Hey, wouldn't it be cool if when we die, we start living in one of our alternate universe selves?”

“That'd be nice, yeah,” Franco ran his free hand through Isco's hair. “But only if I get to continue living with you.”

“Maybe we get to go down the other fork of our latest decision,” Isco said. “Then when we die again, we go to the next latest decision. And so on. You know?”

“You should write a movie.”

Isco beamed. “But wouldn't it be cool?”

“It would,” Franco strained to kiss him on the forehead. “Yeah.”

“Mostly ‘cause it means I get to be with you for a really, really long time.”

A long silence. Franco thought about all the decisions he’d had to make over all this time with Isco. He couldn't imagine himself living down the other fork of any of those decisions. They shaped who he was. Present Franco. And if Franco lived in any of those other universes he wasn't sure if he would like himself.

But that was just another one of the wonderful mysteries of the universe.

Surely enough, Sonia returned about a half hour later with a pizza and a small cake. Isco went outside with his giant bedhead and Franco followed, amused.

“Did you go to the hairdresser’s?” was the first thing Sonia asked.

“No,” Isco said slowly, self-consciously running his hand through his hair. “Why?”

“Good, because I was going to say you should consider changing hairdressers.”

Franco laughed. When Isco stared at him, he guided Isco to the bathroom mirror.

“Psh,” Isco said, giving up after a few combs with his fingers. “It’s not like you have a glamorous bedhead.”

Then he left and Franco checked his own reflection. His bedhead was at least presentable. He rolled his eyes.

He went outside only to have the three of them start singing a birthday song for him, Junior yelling his part at the top of his lungs. He blew out the one big candle in the cake after wishing that there was a heaven in which he could live with Isco forever.

Dinner was relatively quiet. Junior was subdued, possibly because Sonia had tired him out a little. He seemed to be enjoying himself dipping his fingers into the pizza toppings so Franco gave him some of his cheese.

They stayed up a little to play Monopoly; everyone gave in to Junior, needless to say, and eventually Isco was the one who went ‘bankrupt’ first.

“Distract him,” Isco told Sonia as they were putting the game pieces back into the box.

Sonia brought Junior to clean up, so Isco retrieved the stack of Monopoly money from under his ass and put the notes back in their corresponding sections in the box.

Franco gasped when he saw. “You cheated!”

“Pfft,” Isco said. “It’s not like I did it to _win_.”

“Fine.”

“And you cheated too.”

Franco sighed. He retrieved a similar stack from under his own butt. “Fine,” he said again.

Isco burst into giggles and it was the cutest thing Franco had ever seen. He followed Isco to Junior’s room, where everyone was preparing to go to bed, and kept the box in Junior’s little closet. Then the three of them sat around Junior’s bedside and told him stories until he fell asleep.

They went back outside without Sonia because – well, she said she was tired and wanted to sleep, but the both of them knew she was just too shy to be intruding in their private time. Isco opened a bottle of rosé and poured it into two glasses, delivering it to Franco on the couch.

“Rosé is such a gay wine,” he commented as he snuggled into Franco’s shoulder. He seemed to be more into snuggling as he got older; Franco couldn’t imagine Isco ever getting _older_ , but he was.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re gay,” Franco pointed out.

Isco raised his glass as if to say, ‘that’s why we’re drinking this.’ He clinked it against Franco’s glass and took a sip, giving a little grunt of approval.

“Happy birthday,” he said softly. “I hope you were happy today. And that...you’re okay with Sonia being here.”

“Thank you,” Franco smiled. The scent of Isco’s shampoo was wafting into his nose again and it – well, it smelled exactly like Franco’s. “For everything. I had a really, really good day.”

“I can’t wait for you to be Junior’s dad,” Isco whispered. “And then also a dad of your own kid.”

“Maybe after – like, if I sign the guardianship,” Franco stammered. “Maybe after...I’ll ask the orphanage what I can do to...to foster a child.”

Isco tilted his head up and smiled proudly at Franco. “Mmhmm.”

Franco smoothened Isco’s hair back on his head. It was more obedient this time. And Franco didn’t really like talking about himself so he asked, “So what do you wanna do on your birthday?”

“Maybe a party?” Isco asked, like he wasn’t really sure if Franco wanted to be _at_ a party. “Or, I don’t know, anything you want.”

“Anything I want? It’s your birthday.”

“I’ll let you know,” Isco said.

Franco laughed. Isco said that _every year_. And every year, he ended up having a party. So Franco knew this year, Isco’s 29th birthday wouldn’t be any different.

“I love you so much, Isco Alarcon.”

“I love you, too,” Isco smiled. He raised his glass and clinked it against Franco’s again. “I hope you age like wine, Franco.”

“Like gay wine?”

“Exactly like gay wine.”

Franco tapped Isco’s nose with his wine glass. “I hope you never age.”

“That’s a much better birthday wish,” Isco said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said it though, because you’re already old.”

Franco pinched Isco’s nose as he sipped from his glass, so he eventually ran out of air and blew little bubbles into his rosé, and it was actually so funny Franco almost snorted a little wine out of his own nose. It stung but he didn’t dare tell Isco.

That night, the night of the 22nd February 2021, never seemed to end. The night blended into the next day, which blended into the sunrise outside their window, and eventually into Sonia and Junior waking up.

And Franco enjoyed every last second of it just doing nothing with his Isco.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro were invited to Isco’s birthday party, of course.

It wasn’t a big party – in fact, it was exactly the right size. Not too small that it was awkward, but not too big that it was uncomfortable and noisy.

After attending like a million of these Franco-planned parties, Paulo already knew how to pick out these signs.

He was curled up in one corner of the couch trying to watch TV between all the people that were bustling around in front of it when Alvaro came back to sit next to him with a bowl of grapes. He tried to shove one into Paulo’s mouth but Paulo took it from him.

“Where did you even get these?” he asked. “They weren’t on the buffet table.”

“I stole them from Isco’s kitchen,” Alvaro said, his mouth stuffed with like, five grapes.

Paulo bit down on the juicy grape. “Hmm,” he said, examining the cross section. “Do you think Franco will count the grapes they have left and then realise some are missing?”

Alvaro’s hand froze in the air with a couple of grapes between his fingers. He slowly swallowed the remaining grape bits in his mouth. “Do you think I’ll get in trouble?” he asked slowly.

Paulo burst into laughter so loud that some people actually turned to look at him. Alvaro was. Alvaro was such a fucking _bootlicker_. “I’m kidding, Alvaro.”

Alvaro narrowed his eyes, then stuffed the duo of grapes in his mouth. “If I choke and die, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault? If you choke and die, it’s because you can’t stop talking.”

Alvaro chucked a grape at his face. It bounced on the ground and Paulo said something about Franco getting mad if he saw it and Alvaro chucked another grape at him. This time, Franco _did_ see it and came over to pick up both grapes to chuck them at Alvaro instead, telling him to ‘go home and dirty your own house.’

“Serves you right,” Paulo giggled, tucking his head into Alvaro’s shoulder, under his grape-holding arm.

“Stop laughing at me,” Alvaro grumbled.

Paulo sighed happily. He traced the back of Alvaro’s veiny hand with his fingers. The weight of Alvaro’s hand felt. Felt so comfortable in Paulo’s. He keened upwards to kiss Alvaro on the lips.

He watched Franco weave through the crowd to find his Isco, who was wedged in a corner talking to some friends. Franco stood by the side so not to disrupt them, but Isco immediately halted everything else once he saw Franco, and went to stand with Franco instead.

“How cute,” Paulo said softly. His itchy fingers moved to trace the pocket of his own jeans, around the outline of his wallet.

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, evidently also watching the pair of disgusting lovebirds. “Do you think they’ll ever, you know,” he shrugged. “Be with other people?”

“No,” Paulo’s fingers traced the perimeter of his phone. “I think they might be forever.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro said. Then, after a short pause, he continued, “Do you think we’ll be forever?”

Paulo’s finger traced the outline of the small, flat, rectangular engagement ring box right at the bottom of his pocket.

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling when Alvaro responded almost immediately with a kiss atop Paulo’s hair. “I have never believed more in anything else in my life.”


	4. Once Upon A Time We Fell Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do let me know what you think about [the playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7LuFOivbseoZ6nLZ8zJHa7?si=HYYrI_1HT8WvKcoc_wX4xw) I will be updating it as the story goes.
> 
> Title is from Princess of China by Coldplay ft. Rihanna.

The entire second quarter of the year, after Franco had submitted his guardianship forms, was a flurry of home visits, form signing and submission, and court counselling sessions.

Just after Isco’s birthday, at the very end of April, he received the news that the court had approved his guardianship application and that he was, as of that day, Junior’s legal guardian.

Franco appeared at Isco’s doorstep in Madrid with tears in his eyes. Isco didn’t really get what was happening – he just frantically tried to grab Franco – until Franco barged right into the house and found Junior in his play area. He knelt down next to Junior and wrapped him up in a tight hug and he said, “I have never asked for this, I have never thought about how much I wanted this, but now that I have it, it’s the most precious thing in my life.”

“Huh?” was Junior’s only response, muffled in Franco’s shirt.

Isco gave a little knowing laugh from behind them. He knelt down next to Franco and Junior and gently grasped Junior’s head to pull him out of the hug.

“He’s now legally your papi,” he told Junior.

“Huh?” Junior said again.

“The law recognises him as your papi,” Isco said. “It’s not just a name you call him anymore.”

“Oh!” Junior exclaimed. He gave Franco a big hug. “Papi, the law likes you.”

Franco laughed. “Mmhmm. It sure does.”

Then it was Isco’s turn to wrap him in a hug, so he let Franco sob quietly into his shoulder for a few moments. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Franco murmured.

“This is the best birthday present for me.”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. “Not the party, or all the shirts I bought you, or, I don’t know, me?”

“No,” Isco said cheekily, pulling away and holding Franco by the cheeks. He grinned at Franco. “It’s this.”

“Then it’s the best present for me, too,” Franco said.

Isco kissed him on the nose. “C’mon. Let’s bring Junior to have a nice meal with his two legal dads.”

“I’m not a legal dad,” Franco pointed out.

“But you’re legal,” Isco said, and that was that, so Franco happily followed them out the front door to the start of his life as the dad of his first kid.

Strangely, Franco didn’t feel afraid. He wasn’t nervous that he would inadvertently make some kind of wrong decision for or about Junior and make Isco and Sonia regret ever letting him be guardian. He wasn’t scared that one day he would be put in a situation where any potential decision he made would endanger Junior.

He was glad that Isco and Sonia waited this long, four years after Franco and Junior had met. Sure, it might have been a short time for other parents, but for two people who got along as instantly and enthusiastically as Franco and Junior, four years was a really long time. And in those four years Franco had learnt so many things, he had gotten used to having Junior around and taking care of Junior like he was his own kid, even if at the end of the day Franco had nothing to show for it. Isco had waited for the day that Franco was a hundred percent sure that Junior was going to be a part of his future to give him this guardianship, so that it would just be a bonus for Franco, and not a reason Franco should feel obliged to take care of Junior.

Franco thought about all these as he sat across the table from Isco and Junior at the diner. With everything that he’d had to rush around for the past couple of months, Franco had barely had any time at all to sit down and think about what this whole thing actually meant to him, and for him. He thought about how sometimes, or _most of the time_ – Isco literally knew him better than he knew himself. He thought about how his life would be right then, if four years ago he hadn’t met Isco.

All he could come up with was himself sitting in a pitch-black room.

“What’s up?” Isco nudged Franco’s knee with his foot under the table.

“Hmm?” Franco asked. He blinked a few times and was able to focus on the scene of Isco feeding Junior his spaghetti. To his credit, Junior was an obedient child; he didn’t climb on tables or run around in restaurants. But, just as he had been as a toddler, he was _very handsy._ “Baby, stop grabbing the spaghetti with your hands.”

Isco laughed. Junior giggled but continued slurping the spaghetti out of his hands instead of from the fork Isco was holding.

“Watcha thinking about?” Isco asked Franco.

“Nothing much,” Franco said. “Just...just how I would even know myself if I didn’t have you.”

Isco smiled. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I’ve learnt so much about myself because of you. Because of you two. And if we hadn’t...you know. I’d just still be...I’d just be me, and I don’t like that so much.”

Isco reached over and placed one of his hands on Franco’s. It still barely covered three quarters of Franco’s hand, and it had a huge dollop of spaghetti sauce on it, but Franco pretended not to notice.

“I am very proud of you, Franco Vazquez,” he said.

Franco turned his hand around and squeezed Isco’s, careful to avoid the spaghetti sauce. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. You’ve taught me a lot, too.”

“Yeah?”

Isco nodded. “Franco. You think...maybe if we hadn’t gotten together, do you think – maybe you’d have fallen for someone else? And now, maybe...maybe you’d be like this, too. With your own family.”

Franco shook his head. Of course, he would’ve been lying if he’d said he had never thought of something like that. But he was sure, he was _so sure_ that if he and Isco had never met each other or they’d never gotten together, then Franco. Franco would just be sitting at home, alone, probably contented with life but not happy. He would never have realised that there was a side of him that wasn’t aromantic. And Isco reminded him every day that life was a journey, it was constant learning and trying and failing and trying again. Isco taught him that change was good, that it was okay sometimes not understanding.

So he said, “Definitely not.”

Isco smiled, first hesitantly then contentedly. He didn’t pry any further, and sometimes Franco was just. Just so _amazed_ by him. By his wholehearted trust and his ability to read every situation clearly even though no words had been said.

“Isco,” Franco said. “I’m so happy being with you.”

“Me, too,” Isco said, tipping his butt off his chair so he could kiss Franco. “I love you.”

Junior bit off some of his spaghetti and let it fall on his napkin-laden lap. “Pfft,” he said, spewing sauce everywhere. “Get a room.”

Isco turned to him, surprised. “Where did you learn that?”

Junior giggled. “Get a room,” he said again, staring puppy-eyed at Isco, then at Franco.

Isco pinched him on the cheek. “Where did you learn that? Tell papa where you learnt it.”

Junior paused. “No.”

“I won’t be mad. Promise.”

“Papi will be mad?” Junior asked.

Franco shook his head because, well. He really wanted to know, too. “I won’t be mad. Who taught you that?”

“Uncle Alvi,” Junior said sheepishly.

Franco rolled his eyes. “I swear to _God_ , that Morata.”

“Papi you said you won’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are mad,” Junior said. He picked up a clump of sauce and offered it to Franco. “Have some sauce.”

“No,” Franco tutted. He sighed and reached over with a napkin. “Hey. Put that down.”

Isco pulled aside the almost-empty plate of spaghetti as Franco wiped – well, tried to wipe – Junior clean. Then Junior got down from his chair and migrated over to Franco’s side. “Papi will you feed me dessert?”

“No dessert for you today, you’ve been naughty.”

“I haven’t been naughty.”

“Well, you have to learn to eat by yourself.”

Franco eventually ended up feeding Junior the chocolate cake, because how could he ever bear not giving in to that little monster?

Isco just sat across from them watching them the whole time with this silly smile on his face. And even though he looked so goofy and weird, Franco thought – that was it, the look on Isco’s face and the feeling it gave Franco, the happiness and peace and trust, that Franco wanted to keep in his mind forever.

\------

The middle of May wasn’t any sort of anniversary or whatever for Paulo and Alvaro, so Alvaro was pleasantly surprised when Paulo suggested that Alvaro visit him in Turin when he had a midweek break.

He let himself right inside with his copy of Paulo’s key but didn’t see Paulo in the living room. The lights were dimmed but the room seemed full of colour. Alvaro soon realised that it was because of the fresh roses on every available surface and the rose petals that lined the edges of the floor near the walls.

“Paulo?” he called, hoping he hadn’t, like, entered the wrong house or something.

Paulo’s head appeared from behind the bedroom door. “Alvi,” he said. “Wait. Gimme a minute.”

Alvaro sat down on the couch. There were rose petals on the floor there, too.

Paulo eventually reappeared about five minutes later hugging a big box wrapped in a pastel peach wrapping paper. There was a big cut-out hole in the side of the box but Alvaro didn’t think too much about it.

“Did, like, a rose factory explode in here or something?” he asked Paulo.

“A _rose factory_?” Paulo burst into laughter. “You mean a garden?”

“So a garden exploded in here?”

“No,” Paulo scoffed. He smiled at Alvaro and put the huge box on the couch in between him and Alvaro. “Here, I got you something.”

“You got me something?” Alvaro picked up the box and tried to shake it but Paulo made him put it down.

“You can’t shake it,” he said.

“Is it fragile?”

“Kinda.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said slowly. “What day is it today? Is it like, some kinda special date? Was I supposed to get something? Did I forget our anniversary? It’s not our anniversary.”

“It’s not,” Paulo smiled. He was looking at Alvaro with these. These glimmering eyes. “It’s just a present.”

“What’s it for?” Alvaro put his hands on the box. It was sort of. Sort of vibrating a little bit. And also jerking around slightly. “Why is it moving? Are you moving it?”

And then suddenly a bright pink little tongue and its accompanying golden nose appeared in the hole in the side of the box.

Alvaro gasped. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, reaching out to boop the nose only to have it retreat in fright. “It’s a puppy!”

“Uh huh,” Paulo grinned. He took off the lid of the box.

Another few seconds and the _tiniest_ little puppy face popped up, front paws flopping over the box for balance.

“Awww,” Alvaro _squealed_. “Hi! Aww. Hello. You’re so cute. Cutie.”

He lifted the puppy out of the box and cradled it in his arms. It was so _little_ and it had the most golden fur and it snuggled right up against Alvaro’s chest.

“It’s a golden retriever,” Paulo said. “‘Bout three weeks old.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Alvaro asked.

“A girl,” Paulo said. “She and her siblings were abandoned in a box in a parking lot.”

“Oh,” Alvaro cooed, nudging her chin. “I love her. What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have a name yet. What do you wanna name her?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

A wide grin broke out on Paulo’s face. “Yes,” he said excitedly.

“What is it?” Alvaro asked. He held the little girl against his cheek and she nuzzled it with her nose before giving a little squeak. It made Alvaro’s heart melt.

“Winnie,” Paulo said eagerly, his eyes shining more than before, if possible. “Like Winnie the Pooh.”

“Awww,” Alvaro burst into laughter. He held the puppy at arm’s length and took another look at her. She _did_ look a lot like Winnie the Pooh. “But Pooh’s a boy.”

“But Winnie’s a girl’s name.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said, putting her down in his lap and watching her try to paw her way around. “Her name is Winnie.”

Paulo smiled and he looked so _proud_ of himself. He moved the box and slid closer to Alvaro. “You can take her home, if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “But you got her.”

“I got her for us. Maybe she can move around between us.”

“Aww,” Alvaro laughed. “She’s like our daughter.”

Paulo grinned. “Yeah, she is.”

“You got her for me? You really got her for me?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like, we can keep her?”

“Of course we can keep her, Alvi.”

“I just really, really love her.”

Paulo laughed fondly. He gave Winnie’s nose a little boop. “I think she loves you, too.”

“‘Course she does. I’m her dad.”

It didn’t even cross Alvaro’s mind to ask why Paulo had suddenly gotten them a dog. Maybe Paulo just thought it’d be fun for them to have something tiny to look after. Maybe this was Paulo’s idea of the next step of their relationship. And Alvaro could deal with that. Alvaro could.

Winnie was having so much _fun_ frolicking in Alvaro’s lap, although her eyes were too small to open and her legs barely managed to support her own weight. She tried standing up a few times but only fell right over on Alvaro’s thighs, rolling on her back like she wanted Alvaro to rub her tummy. Since she was only three weeks old, Alvaro decided to spoil the fuck out of her with the tummy rubs.

Soon Alvaro began to notice a little tinkling sound whenever Winnie fell over. He took a closer look and saw that Winnie was actually wearing a red collar with something attached to the end of it.

He turned to Paulo. Paulo raised his eyebrows and smiled encouragingly as Alvaro lifted Winnie to take a closer look. He looked a little nervous, which retrospectively Alvaro should have taken as a sign.

On Winnie’s collar hung a little bone-shaped charm and a plain silver ring.

Engraved on the charm were the words, _Will you marry me?_

Alvaro – Alvaro’s heart stopped. It just. It stopped beating. He let go of the charm and the ring, the soft tinkle they made almost too painful for Alvaro’s ears. Winnie gave a soft squeal like she was telling him to get it together. Alvaro turned to Paulo, sitting across from him and fidgeting with his fingers.

Paulo blinked once at him. He reached over and swiftly detached the ring from Winnie’s collar.

“Alvaro,” he said, his voice hoarse and shaking from nervousness. “Alvi. Since I was a young boy I’ve dreamt of a love like ours. And then I met you, and this dream has just gotten closer and closer each day. Today – today is the 4343rd day I’ve known you, and the 1600th day we’ve been together as a couple. Over four thousand days, Alvi. That’s something – something I could never have imagined. There is nothing more I want than to call you my husband. There is nothing more I want than _you,_ but if you were to allow me to call you my husband, then. Then it would be the greatest honour of my life. I love you, Alvi. I love you so much. I’ve loved you for over four thousand days. Some people don’t even get to experience one day of a love like ours for their entire lives. And yet, here we are today, sitting here. Twelve years after we met. Alvaro.”

And then he just. He just stopped, and sat there with the ring in his fingers just staring at Alvaro like he didn’t really know how to continue. Alvaro got it, too, because he didn’t know how to _respond._ The voice in his head was just going _no, no, no, not now,_ like a broken tape.

After what seemed like the _longest_ silence, Alvaro managed to clear his throat. “Exactly one thousand and six hundred days, huh?”

Paulo smiled a shaky smile. “Yeah,” he said, softly but eagerly.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

Paulo’s smile grew the minutest. His eyes darted anxiously over Alvaro’s face. He held the ring up towards Alvaro.

“Alvaro, will you marry me?”

It looked like it took Paulo every last ounce of his bravery to ask Alvaro that, so it filled Alvaro with regret that he had to do what he did next. He tried to gulp down the lump in his throat but found himself unable to do so. He wrapped his fingers around Winnie and put her back in her box, trying to focus on her instead of the rapidly fading hope in Paulo’s eyes.

He wrapped Paulo in a hug, resting his chin on Paulo’s shoulder. Paulo tensed briefly, then. Then just sagged into Alvaro’s chest like he knew what was coming. Alvaro felt all the expectation physically drain from Paulo.

“No?” Paulo asked timidly.

Alvaro squeezed him tight.

Paulo seemed to realise that was the answer he was going to have to accept. His palm landed in the middle of Alvaro’s back, hesitantly rubbing in a single slow circle. Alvaro squeezed him more tightly and felt Paulo’s breath hitch in his throat.

Then Paulo pried himself out of Alvaro’s arms and stood up, stuffing the ring deep in his pocket like he just wanted to forget it existed. His arm barely supported the weight of his own hand as he extended it towards Alvaro.

“C’mon,” he said, the wobble in his voice telling Alvaro he was holding in tears. “I’ll show you Winnie’s bed.”

Alvaro reluctantly curled his fingers around Paulo’s hand. He scooped Winnie up in his other arm and followed Paulo past their bedroom to the end of the corridor, where there was a dog bed and two bowls next to it, one filled with water and the other empty. Paulo took Winnie and put her on the ground, and she used her tiny legs to trot to her bed. After some struggle to get up on it, she curled up in a ball and fell asleep.

Alvaro wished he could _say_ something. He wished he could. He could put into words everything he wanted to tell Paulo.

Paulo let go of his hand and went to the kitchen. Alvaro followed him.

“Paulo,” he finally mustered as Paulo stopped in front of the fridge, eyeing the shelves for anything to eat.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked.

“We have to talk about it.”

Paulo grabbed a tray of what looked like a beef steak. He brought it to the kitchen counter with the butter, an onion, and potatoes.

“Paulo.”

“Go take a shower.”

Alvaro stepped up next to Paulo but Paulo tried not to take any notice of him. He boiled the potatoes and prepared the steak on a plate.

Alvaro leaned over for a kiss but was ignored. He pressed his lips nervously on Paulo’s cheek.

Paulo was mad at him. Alvaro could definitely tell. He wasn’t a good body language reader but he could always tell when Paulo was angry. And he had _every right_ to be angry. Alvaro just. He wished he could explain himself.

He spent his shower time thinking of what to say but didn’t come up with anything. He emerged from it with wrinkled fingertips.

Paulo wasn’t in the kitchen, his presence replaced by the finished steak and potatoes under the heating lamp, and the red rose petals in the bin.

Alvaro found him at the end of the hall, removing Winnie’s collar. He startled when he turned and Alvaro was just standing there with his steak.

“Did you make one for yourself?” Alvaro asked.

“I’m not hungry,” Paulo said. He disappeared into the bedroom.

He wasn’t crying. Somehow, that scared Alvaro. He wished Paulo would just start crying, just start screaming and yelling at Alvaro for breaking another promise. It wasn’t that he wanted to boost his ego by seeing Paulo cry for him. He just hated that Paulo was just going to keep everything bottled up again, like he was so used to doing.

Alvaro sat at the kitchen table and cut his steak and potatoes into tiny pieces. He brought it back into the room and placed it next to him on the bed as he sat down behind Paulo, who was curled up facing the window.

“Pau, you have to eat something.”

Paulo didn’t respond. His shoulders shuddered a little.

“Are you mad at me?” Alvaro asked, which retrospectively sounded totally stupid and lame once it came out of his mouth.

Surprisingly, Paulo reacted to that. “No,” he said, voice thick.

“Will you hear me out?”

Paulo shrugged. Alvaro took it as a yes.

“I know I told you this year was gonna be our year,” Alvaro started softly. “But I’m – I’m not ready. I’m not ready, Paulo. When I think about marrying you, I...I imagine waking up next to you every morning. I imagine us going out for breakfast together every day and walking our dog and decorating our own home. I don’t – it wasn’t like this. I can’t – I can’t get engaged to you while we’re living in totally different places. Paulo. I’m not – it’s not that I don’t want to marry you. I do. I want to marry you. It’s just – maybe now...now we’re not ready.”

“You mean _you’re_ not ready,” Paulo said almost immediately. He sounded. He sounded spiteful.

“Paulo –”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Paulo asked. “Us getting married and having a dog?”

“It is. But –”

“What do you want? Alvi. What is it? I’ll give you anything. You know that, right? I’ll give you anything.”

“Could you give me some time?”

“Is it the dog? Is it Winnie? Do you want a cat instead? I can get you –”

“No, Paulo, it’s not Winnie.”

“Is it because I didn’t get on one knee? It’s because I didn’t –“

Alvaro grabbed him by the waist and sat him up, letting him crash into his arms in a hug. He hated this self-loathing. He hated that Paulo hated himself this much and blamed himself for everything that happened to him. And he hated that he had such a big role to play in it.

Alvaro knew he was being selfish. But he also knew if he said yes, they would have to push their wedding back indefinitely until they got the chance to live together again. Or – or Alvaro would have to head into something he completely wasn’t ready for, and risk losing everything in the process. Paulo included.

“You said this year’s our year,” Paulo sobbed.

“I know,” Alvaro smoothened Paulo’s hair, his hand curling around the back of Paulo’s neck. “We’re only halfway through the year.”

“Why don’t you love me, Alvi?”

“I do,” Alvaro said, his heart breaking and settling in a pile of ashes on the floor. “I do. I love you so much. We’ve been – we’ve been us for so long, Paulo. We don’t need a big wedding or a piece of paper to tell us that. We have the rest of our lives.”

“People keep telling me that I’m wrong, you know? They tell me that you’re gonna hurt me. But I never listen to them. I always come back to you, Alvi. I will always love you.”

“I’m so sorry, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. Paulo was getting hysterical. “I’ll make it right. I promise. I’ll make it right and 2021 is still going to be our year.”

“Why don’t you love me? Why don’t you want to marry me?”

Okay, he was definitely hysterical. Alvaro wrapped him up in one arm and picked up the plate, feeding him a chunk of steak with the arm around his shoulders. “C’mon. You have to eat something.”

Paulo took _ages_ to chew every bite. Alvaro took those breaks to have his own portion, the entire time just. Just watching Paulo. He had so thoroughly _not_ expected this that he wasn’t even feeling it yet. He was just. Just a little numb. Which was unfair, given how hurt Paulo was.

A part of Alvaro wished he had said yes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to Paulo as Paulo chewed on the last bit of potato.

Paulo shook his head. “‘s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

Paulo shook his head again. “But did you like it? The way I…”

Proposed. The way he proposed. Alvaro nodded. “I loved it. It was beautiful.”

Paulo smiled a _‘but it's not enough’_ smile that did not reach his eyes. “And Winnie?”

“She’s beautiful, too.”

Paulo’s smile reached his eyes. “Isn’t she?”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro couldn’t help but return the smile. “Do you want me to leave? I can just. I can go.”

Paulo thought about that for a while, fingers fiddling with Alvaro’s t-shirt. Then he shook his head, avoiding eye contact and instead just tucking his head under Alvaro’s chin.

“Don’t leave us,” he whispered.

Alvaro grasped Paulo’s neck again and pulled him closer for a kiss. This time, he didn’t decline.

“I’m sorry,” Alvaro murmured. “I’ll make it right. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Paulo sighed, pulling away and lying down again, back facing Alvaro. “I know. I understand.”

Paulo would always understand. Alvaro knew that. He believed that with all his heart. He just – just didn’t want to take this for granted. That Paulo would always understand and Paulo would always forgive him. Because one day – one day, Paulo might not.

Alvaro briefly thought about curling up behind Paulo but Paulo’s back suddenly looked unwelcoming. He was stiff and sighing, and he was wrapped up on himself in a way that told Alvaro he wanted to be alone.

Alvaro washed his plate and utensils and went to sit next to Winnie’s bed. She was awake again, and sprawled on the floor trying to drink water from her bowl. Alvaro thought she might be hungry so he found some milk in the fridge and poured it in her empty bowl. She lapped it up eagerly and her nose became all white which made Alvaro smile. She gave a yelp in Alvaro’s direction when she was full.

Alvaro emptied her bowls and washed her little nose over the sink. She looked confused – well, as confused as her tiny face could convey – and kept waving her paws around, so Alvaro put her on the ground and let her wander. He ended up shooing her back to her bed because she was going into weird places like the bathroom. Or under the couch. But even then she wasn’t sleepy so she clung on to Alvaro’s foot, pleading with him to take her somewhere.

Alvaro brought her into the bedroom. He climbed into bed and Paulo turned around, attracted by Winnie’s little sniffles and – Alvaro wasn’t even sure what to call them besides puppy noises. Winnie understandably recognised Paulo more than she did Alvaro, so upon being put down she clambered over to Paulo, who had now curled up facing Alvaro instead. She didn’t seem to know how to lick anything yet so she just booped her nose all over Paulo’s face until he dissolved in a fit of giggles.

It was the most beautiful sound Alvaro had ever heard.

“You’re a pretty girl, huh?” Paulo cooed, cupping Winnie in his hands. “Who’s a pretty girl? You!”

“She makes me wanna tie a ribbon around her neck,” Alvaro said.

“There are some ribbons in that bag,” Paulo said after the slightest hesitation, pointing at a large paper bag sitting in the corner of the room. “With some dog toys.”

Alvaro retrieved a red ribbon and tied a bow around Winnie’s neck.

“Now she looks just like Winnie the Pooh,” he said.

Paulo laughed. “We gotta get her a Pooh shirt.”

“Several Pooh shirts.”

“She’s so tiny. Her eyes are so tiny. It makes her look so grumpy.”

“Perfect, then she looks just like you.”

Paulo smiled, this time directly at Alvaro, and suddenly all the tension dissolved completely.

Alvaro lay down next to Paulo and watched Winnie do the same between them, her four limbs sprawled in all directions. She rested her head on her front paws and blinked at the space in front of her.

“What do you think dogs think about all day?” Paulo asked, at the same moment Alvaro said, “Paulo.”

A single beat of silence.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro reached over Winnie and cupped Paulo’s cheek, his heart melting when Paulo leaned into his grasp. Alvaro – Alvaro did want to talk about it. He just didn’t know how to.

“I love you so much,” he said. “I always have.”

Paulo smiled a hesitant smile, his eyes wandering Alvaro’s face until he found what he was looking for. “I know,” he whispered, and he sounded so _relieved_.

Another silence, this time the slightest bit longer.

“Maybe they’re just thinking about when is the next time for cuddles,” Alvaro said, as an answer to Paulo’s previous question.

Paulo grinned. “Every time. Every time’s the time for cuddles.”

Then he picked Winnie up and cuddled the hell out of her, and Alvaro was sure if she could giggle she would've been giggling but instead she had what little tongue she had grown stick out of her mouth and was smiling at Paulo.

In that moment everything else seemed forgotten.

“She’s smiling!” Paulo exclaimed. “Alvi! Look, she’s smiling.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, his heart just. Just so warm. This was his Paulo and he _loved_ him to the ends of this earth and. And he hated that he was always a disappointment to Paulo.

He kept thinking of what Paulo’s mom had said about taking Paulo for granted. He kept thinking that maybe this was going to be the last time Alvaro would even get to _think_ about taking Paulo for granted.

“Say hi to your other daddy,” Paulo was cooing in the babiest voice Alvaro had ever heard from him. He rolled over towards Alvaro and put Winnie near Alvaro’s face before pulling her back when he saw Alvaro’s facial expression. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“What if I say yes?” Alvaro blurted, on the edge of crying. He gestured at the air between them, still frayed with the minutest tension. “If I – if I say yes?”

“Alvi –”

“I _want_ to marry you, Paulo, and it kills me that I keep making you think otherwise. So what if I say yes? Let’s – let’s rewind, you go get the ring out again, and this time I’ll say yes.”

“ _Alvi_ ,” Paulo said again. “No.”

“Why not?” Alvaro asked. “Why – Paulo, I would say yes. You know I would. I’m so sorry for always disappointing you and –”

“I don’t want you to say yes,” Paulo interrupted.

“Why?” Alvaro asked, and he was actually crying a bit this time.

“Because your first thought was no,” Paulo said softly. “And that’s your decision. That was the first thing you thought of and any answer other than that would just be you lying. Lying to yourself. And it would just be – just be me making you do this. And I don’t want to do that. You know what you want, Alvi, and if – maybe if it’s not wanting to get married to me now, then. Then I can live with that. Okay? I mean, this – this thing I did today, I’ve only been thinking about it for like, a week. I only got Winnie three days ago. Okay? Alvi. I’m – I don’t want us to force this to happen. Okay? I’m fine. I promise. I promise you.”

“Are we going to be okay?” Alvaro sobbed. “Paulo, I just want us to be okay. I don’t need to have a piece of paper or a big wedding. I just want us.”

“We are,” Paulo whispered. “Yeah.”

“Always?”

Paulo smiled. He picked Winnie up again and put her right in front of Alvaro, almost under his chin. “Tell daddy ‘always,’” he said.

Winnie gave the softest bark.

“See? She thinks so too,” Paulo said.

“Paulo, I love you so much.”

“Me, too,” Paulo said, curling up in a ball and watching Winnie scour the space between them for something only she knew. He closed his eyes and sighed but never actually went to sleep, making Alvaro think that maybe he was only doing it so he didn’t have to look at Alvaro.

Alvaro slowly drifted off to sleep with Winnie draped over his wrist, without even uttering another word to Paulo.

He jolted awake a couple hours later – he could tell from the silence from the road outside Paulo’s apartment – to Paulo in the same position, but cradling Winnie and crying.

Alvaro’s first instinct was to reach over and cup Paulo’s face, but Paulo startled and wiped away his own tears, turning to face the ceiling instead. He blinked rapidly for a few moments, like if he stayed really still, Alvaro would just go back to sleep.

Alvaro snuggled up to him, the rhythm of Paulo’s sobs dragging Alvaro back into reluctant sleep.

He woke up again to Paulo softly stroking his face, asking, “What did I do wrong?”

Alvaro thought of replying but didn’t have a clue what to say except ‘nothing,’ which he knew would just make Paulo more upset because Alvaro couldn’t even give him a reason _why_.

Instead, he just watched Paulo with hooded eyes, through his eyelashes, wishing with all his might that Paulo would stop crying.

Paulo hadn’t finished sobbing when he stood up with a sleeping Winnie hooked over his arm. He circled the bed and stood behind Alvaro, leaning over to kiss Alvaro first on his cheek, then his temple. He gave a sob right into Alvaro’s ear and Alvaro’s hairs stood on end.

Alvaro got up once Paulo’s footsteps faded down the hall. He stood at doorway and watched as Paulo put Winnie back in her own bed, and then gave in to her persistent soft yelping and pawing at his feet and sat down next to it. Finally contented, she curled up, a tiny figure in the adult dog-sized bed, and went to sleep.

Paulo watched her for a while, shoulders still heaving. Then he lay down on his side and fell asleep with his head resting on Winnie’s bed, Winnie’s little butt like, right in front of his nose. His shoulders eventually stopped shuddering as he drifted off.

Alvaro went over and scooped him off the ground, startling him awake. He tried carrying Paulo back to bed but Paulo struggled to put his feet on the ground.

“Come back to bed,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo shook his head. He tried to leave but Alvaro grabbed his wrist to stop him.

Paulo seemed to melt into Alvaro’s arms when he hugged him, his cheek finding the crook between Alvaro’s neck and his collarbone. He nuzzled Alvaro for a while like it comforted him, but soon Alvaro’s presence became repulsive again so he pulled away.

This time, Alvaro grabbed him by the face and kissed him.

He didn’t recoil, to Alvaro’s relief. He willingly sunk into it, his arms winding around Alvaro’s waist and moving up Alvaro’s back before his fingers lost themselves in Alvaro’s hair. His lips were. They were soft and eager and _helpless,_ like he knew he wasn’t going to find the answers he was seeking after. They were hard and gentle at once, reluctant to leave Alvaro’s, like he knew deep down that even though neither of them had made any verbal indication, this might be the very last time.

Alvaro didn’t want it to be.

But when Paulo finally pulled away from the kiss – when Paulo pulled away, a part of Alvaro went with him.

Paulo headed to the sofa and settled on his side, falling asleep again almost immediately. Alvaro watched from where he stood, his heart sinking an inch deeper with every moment he realised that Paulo had spent – Alvaro glanced at the clock – almost three sleepless hours crying next to Alvaro in bed, but could slip into slumber almost effortlessly once he was away from Alvaro. Like Alvaro was the only thing separating Paulo from any sort of peace he sought in his life. Like being physically close to Alvaro robbed Paulo of any ability to even exist normally.

Alvaro searched the closet for an extra blanket and draped it over Paulo. He tucked the corners in under Paulo. Paulo didn’t respond in any way.

Alvaro crawled back into bed crying, wishing over and over again he could go back five hours and say yes to Paulo.

But he knew that wasn’t what he wanted. And he knew that him saying yes right then was not what Paulo wanted, either. In any case, they would be heading into a marriage that one of them was unsure about. It wasn’t. It wasn’t going to work out.

Alvaro ended up calling Isco, his fingers making the familiar movements almost without command.

He was greeted by a vague grunt on the other end of the line.

“Hey, it’s me,” he sobbed.

“Hmm,” the voice said. It turned out to be Franco. “Wait.”

A few more murmurs later and the phone was at Isco’s ear. “What?” he asked.

“I forgot it’s the middle of the night,” Alvaro said.

“What’s up?”

“I fucked up,” Alvaro sobbed.

“Again?” Isco sighed, then, “What happened?”

Alvaro couldn’t. He couldn’t even _tell_ Isco. He just cried and cried and he said some things that neither him nor Isco could understand. To Isco’s credit, he stayed on the phone throughout.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he asked. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Alvaro managed to snivel.

“You gonna be okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Get some rest, okay? You’ll feel better.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

Alvaro hung up the phone and went back outside with the sheets wrapped around him. He sat on the ground next to Paulo and pressed his cheek on Paulo’s knees because being near to Paulo was the only way he ever found peace.


	5. If You Close Your Eyes, Does It Almost Feel Like Nothing Changed At All?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7LuFOivbseoZ6nLZ8zJHa7?si=5avjIE7YQ1q-DbCRqNnOuQ)
> 
> Title is from Pompeii by Bastille.

Franco rode the wave of his approved guardianship and submitted his application to foster a child on the third weekend of May.

Isco went with him to the orphanage and watched proudly as he gave the envelope. He held Franco’s hand and fucking _beamed_ at him everywhere they walked.

“What the hell you smiling at?” Franco asked.

“One of these kids is gonna be your child,” Isco cooed, one hand leaving Franco’s arm only briefly enough to gesture at the courtyard of children, then returning back to its place. “I’m so proud of you.”

Franco smiled. He kissed Isco on his huge forehead. “C’mon. Let’s go have lunch.”

They were halfway to the mall when Franco’s phone rang with Paulo’s name on the screen.

“Wait, it’s Paulo,” Franco said, stopping Isco from skipping along the row of shops.

“What?” Isco asked. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Did Morata ever call you back?”

“He didn’t. Quick, answer it.”

Franco tapped the green button. “Hey, Paulo.”

“Hi,” Paulo’s voice was soft. “Are you at home?”

“I’m out with Isco. Why?”

“Oh,” Paulo said. “That’s okay, then.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m –” Paulo sighed. “I’m kinda. Outside your house.”

“What? Why are you outside my house?” Franco asked. He turned to Isco, whose eyebrows shot to the sky.

“I – it’s nothing,” Paulo mumbled. “I’m just. I’ll go home.”

“No, hey,” Franco said. Isco gave him a nod, so he went on. “We’ll go back now.”

“Ask him if he wants lunch,” Isco suggested.

“Do you want lunch?” Franco asked.

“Not really,” Paulo said.

“We’re getting you lunch,” Franco said, anyway. “Stay there, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

Paulo chuckled lowly. “Okay.”

They decided that they were in a rush so they just got, like, a whole bunch of pasta to share. They found Paulo crouched on Franco’s stoop, hugging his knees to his chest.

He stood up when Isco and Franco approached. The front of his sweater was puffy, and when he moved suddenly a golden head popped out of the zipper.

Isco gasped. “Who’s this?” he cooed, reaching out and grabbing the puppy. It was so _tiny._ It was barely the length of Isco’s forearm. He held it high up in the air. “Hi!”

“Her name’s Winnie,” Paulo said.

Isco burst into laughter. “Like Winnie the Pooh? Nice.”

Paulo smiled a proud smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“What brought you here?” Franco asked, ushering him inside.

“I just needed someone to talk to,” Paulo said softly. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. There were dark rings around his eyes and he moved sluggishly. “Sorry I didn’t call first. Isco, sorry I was gonna steal your boyfriend like that.”

“It’s fine,” Isco said, distracted by Winnie.

“What do you want to talk about?” Franco asked.

Paulo sighed. He sat down on Franco’s couch and slid so far down he was practically just lying on the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Where’s Alvaro?” Isco asked.

“In London or something.”

The air seemed to fill with static at the very mention of Alvaro. Paulo kept his eyes straight ahead, blinking rapidly, like he was suddenly nervous. Isco cuddled Winnie in his lap.

Franco reached around behind Paulo and tapped Isco on the shoulder. He glanced at Paulo and raised his eyebrows.

“So, um,” Isco cleared his throat. “Lunch?”

Paulo shrugged, so they both took that as a yes.

Franco scooped the pasta into three plates and they sat there in a row, facing the TV, eating silently. Isco almost started twitching at how quiet it was. Fortunately, Paulo finished the whole serving, so there weren’t any awkward comments to be made.

“What do you want to talk about?” Franco urged gently.

Paulo sighed. He went quiet for a while, then said, “Sorry I interrupted your date.”

“It’s okay,” Franco said.

“We only went to the orphanage to submit the foster parent forms,” Isco added.

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “That’s really awesome.”

“Isn’t it?” Isco beamed. “I can’t wait.”

But Franco sensed that something wasn’t quite right. Paulo didn’t seem happy. Or in the mood to even talk about these happy things. He looked. Just so tired and sad.

“Can I crash somewhere?” Paulo asked. “In like. Your guestroom or whatever.”

“Sure,” Franco said. “Do you wanna, uh, like. Take a shower first?”

He received a glare from Isco, who stood up and tugged at Paulo’s wrist. “Don’t bother about this clean freak. C’mon. I’ll take you inside.”

“Thanks. I haven’t slept – I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“You promise you’ll tell us everything after your nap?”

“Okay.”

He brought Paulo to the guestroom and Paulo immediately burrowed his way under the sheets and closed his eyes. Isco and Franco stood creepily at the door for a while and Paulo cracked one eye open.

Franco grabbed Winnie from under Isco’s arm – _seriously_ , he was just hogging the poor girl – and put her next to Paulo. “Here,” he said. “Sleep tight.”

Paulo smiled. He hugged Winnie, who immediately nuzzled her nose against Paulo’s chin. Then he fell asleep within seconds.

“It's kinda strange that he just suddenly appeared with a dog,” Franco whispered as they shut the bedroom door. “And without a bag.”

“Maybe he’ll tell us later,” Isco said, grabbing Franco’s hand. “Now we can continue our date.”

The continuation of their date turned out to be just cuddling and watching TV, but Franco was contented.

\------

Paulo woke up two hours later feeling just the appropriate amount of refreshed.

He thought of getting up to find Isco and Franco, but decided he was too physically tired to do so. Winnie was sprawled out beside him, her tiny self taking up almost half the bed space.

Paulo poked her in the cheek and she took a few moments to stir. She rolled on her side and stared at Paulo with half-open eyes which eventually shut all the way again.

Paulo laughed. He picked her up and booped her nose with his. “You’re a cutie, huh? We should’ve named you Cutie. Not Winnie. Cutie.”

She gave a little whine. Paulo let her sleep on his shoulder. He figured soon enough she’d be too big to do that so Paulo was going to enjoy it while he could.

A few minutes later there was a soft knock at the door. It opened and Isco popped his head around it, followed by Franco.

“How you feeling?” Franco asked.

Paulo smiled. He hoped that was enough of an answer.

“Can we come in?” Isco asked. His hands appeared around the door, holding two glasses of water. “We have water,” he said, like that was an incentive.

Paulo nodded. The both of them came inside and each took one of Paulo’s sides, Isco nearer to the window and Franco the door. They sat down just like Paulo against the headboard and tucked their legs under the sheets, and Isco gave Paulo one of his glasses. Paulo finished it in one gulp.

Franco blinked at him a few times, then slowly offered his glass like he wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. Paulo was still a little parched, so he took it from him and sipped from it slowly.

“So what’s up?” Franco asked kindly.

Paulo sighed. “It’s kinda stupid.”

“Tell us,” Isco urged. “We won’t laugh at you.”

Paulo sighed again. “So, you know, Winnie, right?” he started hesitantly, because after all he didn’t come to fucking Seville just to sleep in Franco’s guestroom and ruin their date. “I got her for Alvaro.”

Isco and Franco gave each other a brief furtive glance. “And...he didn’t want it?” Isco guessed.

Paulo shook his head although, well. That was true, to some extent. “I...I proposed to him.”

Isco’s eyes widened. “Like...for marriage?”

Franco gave a really loud ‘tsk’ like he just wanted to go off at Isco. But he didn’t. Probably considering Paulo’s feelings right then. Paulo nodded at Isco.

“How...um, how did you do it?” Isco asked, gesturing at the air in front of him.

“I put a ring and a dog tag on her collar.”

“Oh,” Isco said. “Wow. I’m not getting married unless someone proposes to me with a dog.”

Paulo saw Franco’s eyebrows shoot all the way to the sky. It made him laugh a little, which felt pretty good.

“So then what happened?” Isco asked.

“He said no,” Paulo said, softly and slowly, worried he’d burst into tears. “I mean, he didn’t really say no. It’s just. It’s complicated. He explained it to me, and I understand, but it’s just. I don’t know. I really. I want to. You know? And I really thought he was going to say yes.”

A short silence.

“What did he say?” Isco finally said.

“That if he said yes, he’d be getting in a marriage that he wasn’t sure about. Because he sees a marriage as…as waking up with me every morning, being by my side. And now, now that’s just not what we are. He probably...he just wants it to be that way. You know him, he has this very clear image of how his life should be. And I just. I guess I’m not in it. For now.”

“Don’t say that,” Isco whispered. “You are. It’s just circumstance.”

“And he said,” Paulo continued rambling even though his breath caught in his throat. “He asked me, like, what if he said yes? He asked me to take the ring out again and ask him again, and he promised he’d say yes. But I – I told him no. I told him that ‘no’ was his first thought and anything else, he’s just going to end up regretting it. And I keep thinking – why did I do that? Maybe I should have let him say yes. But then I don’t _want_ to. You know? But I want – I’m just.”

“Yeah, hey, okay,” Isco said softly, hooking his arm in Paulo’s. “It’s okay. You two are going to make it right.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I’ve always known you two are going to get married and live happy ever after.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, everyone thinks so,” Isco smiled. “Right, Franco?”

Isco and Paulo both turned to Franco, whom Paulo realised hadn’t said a single word since the start of Paulo’s story.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” Isco asked.

Franco blinked back at them, then gave an exasperated shrug. “Do you want me to say something bad?” he asked.

“You don’t think we’ll always be together?” Paulo asked sadly.

“No,” Franco said. “I do. I always have.”

“It’s just that Alvaro’s a dick,” Isco finished for him.

Another silence as Paulo’s sobbing subsided into sniffling.

“Thanks for listening to me,” Paulo said softly.

Isco smiled. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Paulo shook his head. “I just. Just wanna forget it happened. He doesn’t wanna marry me. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Franco wrapped an arm around Paulo and hugged him tight. “You just gotta be strong, try to forget about it, and just focus on your Champions League final, okay?”

God, with everything that was happening, Paulo would’ve forgotten about the final in Lyon had it not been the fact that he was skipping training right then with a ‘cold.’

“Maybe this year really is gonna be your year,” Isco said encouragingly. “And you guys are going to win it.”

Silence again as they all pondered that. A strange smell started to waft out from underneath the sheet. It was like. Paulo didn’t really know. Maybe a fart.

“What’s that smell?” he asked.

A pause, then. “Sorry, I farted,” Isco said sheepishly. “I thought it was gonna be scentless.”

Franco tutted. “Gross.”

“I ate too many baked beans.”

“I think that’s cannibalism,” Franco said thoughtfully, then burst into howling laughter, jostling Paulo around. Paulo glared at him, so he grabbed Paulo’s head and put it on Isco’s shoulder. “Lie on him. He’s squishy.”

“He’s also just farted,” Paulo pointed out. But Isco really was squishier than bony Franco.

“Everyone farts,” Isco retorted, then repeated his excuse. “It’s the beans.”

Paulo sighed. He wasn’t sure if Isco and Franco had been intending it, but their banter was actually making Paulo feel a lot better.

“I wish we were like you two,” he said.

“You don't,” Isco smiled. “You two have your own way of things and you love each other in your own tiny little ways. And that's all that matters. Not what it looks like. Alvaro just needs time to figure shit out, okay? He always has. And then maybe he’ll realise what he wants.”

Paulo sighed. “I’ve missed you two.”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. “We can go to Turin with you, if you want.”

“Yeah, we don't really have anything going on.”

“Really?” Paulo asked. He didn't want to seem needy and clingy but it would be nice to have people around.

“Yeah, and we’ll even try not to be all lovey dovey in front of you,” Isco said.

Paulo laughed. “It’s okay. You don’t have to come. I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Franco said. He stood up with all their glasses and Winnie, who’d awoken, hopped over everyone’s legs into the space he’d vacated. “Do you want dinner?”

“Didn’t I just eat?” Paulo asked.

“But it’s dinnertime.”

Paulo shrugged.

“I’ll cook,” Franco said. He disappeared behind the door, closing it gently.

There was a brief, rather awkward silence between Paulo and Isco. Paulo sat up straight, gently slipping out of Isco’s grasp. Winnie found her way into the space between their thighs and burrowed into it, only her contented face peeking out. Paulo gave her a boop on her nose.

“Why do you think Alvi doesn’t love me?” Paulo asked.

“Hey,” Isco said, almost immediately, like he was shocked. “He does. He is a massive asshole but he does. I swear to God, he does.”

“You think so?”

“I _know_ he does,” Isco said firmly. “Okay? He’s just. He explained it to you, right? He’s just so _stubborn_. He hasn’t said no because he doesn’t love you. It’s because. Because he has this image in his mind of what’s the proper way to love you, and right now that image isn’t reality yet. Okay? It’s not because he doesn’t love you.”

“I shouldn’t have asked him,” Paulo sobbed softly. “You think? You know? Franco told me last year that Alvaro told him he didn’t think we should get married until we lived together. And my mom. My mom told me on new year’s eve Alvaro told her that he didn’t think he was ready to marry me. But I didn’t listen to them, and I just. Like, I spent one week thinking about it and then I went to get a ring, and then I spent one week planning it and now...now I’m like this. And I just. I’m so fucking _reckless_ , you know? And I do things that...I don’t know why I do. I feel like I spend my entire life just regretting things that I’ve already done. And I can’t change them and I can’t – I just. Isco. You ever hate yourself?”

“Hate myself?” Isco asked slowly. “You mean...like, get embarrassed of myself?”

“No, like hate yourself. Like you wish you didn’t exist.”

“No,” Isco said after a brief hesitation. “But I understand how that might feel.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, but – but I hate myself,” Paulo whispered. “You know? I don’t like myself. And no one loves me.”

“Hey,” Isco said again, gently. “Don’t say that. I do. I love you.”

“You do?”

“Mmhmm,” Isco said, gently sweeping Paulo’s teary, sweaty hair back on his head. “And Franco loves you, too. And your mom, and your brothers, and your dad. And your cousins and all your friends. And Alvaro. There are a lot of people who love you, Paulo.”

Paulo gave a little sniffle. “I don’t feel that way.”

“Just try to remember it, okay?” Isco smiled. “Sometimes trying is all you need.”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered. “What do you think Franco is cooking?”

“Hmm,” Isco said thoughtfully. “Paella.”

He said it so confidently and quickly that it actually made Paulo chuckle a little bit. “How are you so sure?” he asked.

“All he has in his pantry is pasta and rice and we already had pasta for lunch.”

Paulo sighed. “I’m so happy for you two.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“That you two found each other.”

“Aww,” Isco said. He gave Paulo a little peck on the top of his head. “You see? Even though you’re so sad, you can still find it in yourself to be happy for other people. You’re an amazing person, Paulo, and there’s so many people who love you and care for you. Okay? Just remember that.”

“Okay,” Paulo said. He closed his eyes because for some reason he was really tired and wanted to sleep for like, three days. “And Isco?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

Isco laughed. He wrapped Paulo up tightly and Paulo dozed until a half-hour later when Franco knocked on the door and called that dinner was ready.

Paulo and Isco were welcomed by the overwhelming scent of saffron. There were three plates of paella set on the coffee table, and Franco was holding a dog food dish and looking in one of the floor cabinets.

“Hey, what does Winnie eat?” he asked when Isco and Paulo stopped behind him.

“She mostly drinks milk,” Paulo said. “But she’s a month old so I’m giving her a little bit of soft meat.”

Franco grabbed a small can of dog food. “Chicken?”

Paulo shrugged. “Sure.”

They settled down on the sofa with their paella, but Franco sat on the floor and let Winnie eat right in the middle of the coffee table, sprawled out on her stomach. He just sat there and watched her eat with this tiny smile on his face, occasionally reaching out to push her ears back so they wouldn’t get dipped in her food.

“He just loves small things,” Isco pointed out, like he felt he needed to explain his boyfriend’s behaviour.

Paulo swallowed his mouthful of rice and gestured between himself and Isco. “I don’t think it’s a secret.”

Isco laughed and it was loud and embarrassing but it was contagious. And Paulo realised that was all he needed in that moment. To laugh a little.

“Hey,” Paulo said. “You sure it’s okay if you guys come to Turin for a while?”

“‘Course,” Isco said happily. “Yeah. We can stay in an airbnb and Franco can be super anal about how the owner didn’t decorate it the way it ‘should have been’ yet be secretly incorporating all those decorations into our own places.”

Paulo laughed. “That’s exactly him.”

“We’ll go back with you,” Isco said. “When’s your flight?”

“I haven’t booked one yet but I should go back tomorrow morning.”

“Done,” Isco beamed. “Franco, we’re going to Turin tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Franco said distractedly.

Isco disappeared inside with their plates – well, except Franco’s, because he ate more slowly than the seasons changed – and Paulo felt like he hadn’t peed for an entire day so he found his way to the bathroom. When he came back outside Franco was back on the couch eating his food properly.

“So,” Franco said as Paulo sat next to him. “You and Morata, what's going on now?”

“I don't know,” Paulo said. “We haven't talked about it.”

“But you still talk?”

“Every day.”

Silence.

“You know you should talk about it, right?”

Paulo nodded. “Mmhmm. Yeah.”

Silence again.

“I love him so much,” Paulo whispered.

“I know,” Franco said. “And he loves you just as much.”

“That's it?” Paulo asked. “That's all? You're not gonna say ‘I told you so’?”

“Why would I?” Franco asked. “I mean, I _did_ tell you so, but. If I’d truly believed that you wouldn't go ahead and propose to him, then am I really your friend at all?”

“So you're not judging me or anything? For staying with him as his boyfriend now?”

Franco shook his head. “Not one bit.”

That actually made Paulo smile again. “Thank you.”

“I just,” Franco shrugged. “Maybe I’m done taking sides. You understand?”

Paulo nodded. “You just don’t wanna be mad at him anymore.”

Franco smiled. “Yeah. But it doesn’t mean I don’t think what he’s doing is silly.”

“We’re both kinda silly.”

“That’s why you’re soulmates.”

“Soulmates,” Paulo sighed, leaning his head on Franco’s shoulder. “You think that’s real?”

“Mmhmm. Like you and Morata.”

“You and Isco are soulmates too.”

Franco smiled proudly at him. He put his almost-empty plate on the table and leaned over to grab Winnie. “Where’d you get her?” he asked, putting her down so she was stretched over their thighs.

“She’s a rescue. Abandoned with her siblings at birth.”

“Aww,” Franco cooed. He rubbed Winnie’s head and started speaking in a baby voice to her, which came as a complete surprise to Paulo. “But now you’re home, yeah? You’re so lucky and you’ve got the best home and you’ll be happy forever.”

Winnie rolled over on her back and gave Franco the biggest smile, but Paulo knew she was doing it so Franco would rub her tummy. “She wants you to rub her tummy,” he told Franco.

Franco laughed. “She’s so cute. I love her.”

Isco came back out with a set of clean clothes and a towel. He handed them to Paulo. “These are mine so I think you can fit into them,” he said. “Maybe you’ll feel better after a shower.”

Paulo did feel better after a long, long shower. He went outside to see Isco and Franco midway through a game of FIFA, squabbling loudly. Winnie was sprawled out again on the floor, eyes roaming slowly around.

“Paulo!” Isco called when he spotted Paulo just standing there awkwardly by himself. “C’mere. Help me beat Franco.”

Paulo almost snorted. “You can’t beat Franco.”

“Who says I can’t beat Franco?” Isco asked, offended, as Franco burst into laughter.

Paulo pointed at himself. “Years of experience.”

“I’ve beaten him,” Isco said defensively.

“I let you,” Franco said.

“All those three times?” Isco asked. He scoffed when Franco nodded eagerly.

Paulo sat down next to him even though all he actually wanted to do was lie down and cry and sleep. “I’ll help you beat Franco,” he said.

Isco looked _delighted_. He shoved Franco further down the couch to make space for Paulo, and together they lost to Franco thrice before finally beating him on penalties. It was actually pretty incredible. And noisy, of course.

“Told you we’d win,” Isco said proudly.

“Yeah, on your fourth try,” Franco said bitterly.

“Whatever, we won and you’re salty,” Isco said.

Franco sighed. He put the controller down and stood up to stretch. “Tea?”

“Tea?” Paulo repeated. “It’s bedtime.”

Franco shrugged helplessly before gesturing at Isco. “He says it helps him sleep.”

“It’s chamomile,” Isco said, like that was all he could say to defend himself.

Paulo smiled. “No thanks,” he said. “I’ll just, uh. I’ll go to bed. Can I crash here for tonight?”

Isco and Franco exchanged a brief worried glance before nodding at the same time.

Paulo scooped Winnie up and dragged his feet to the guestroom, sighing as he crawled under the covers again. He couldn’t sleep, so he rolled around for a while with Winnie, who seemed to like any kind of soft surface she was allowed to frolic on.

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door. It opened by itself and Isco’s tattooed arm extended around it, holding a mug of steaming tea. A moment later Isco’s face appeared. “Tea?” he asked.

Paulo shrugged. “Sure.”

He came inside, followed by a rather reluctant Franco. But it didn’t really seem like Franco just wanted some alone time with Isco; rather, he probably felt like they were just bothering Paulo. “Company?” Isco asked.

Paulo nodded. He took the tea, which was just the right warmth against his palms, and sipped it. Isco and Franco returned to the same positions they were in earlier, one on each side of Paulo.

A period of awkward silence later Franco whipped out his phone. “Cat videos?” he asked.

Isco gasped. He grabbed Winnie and covered her ears. “Rude,” he accused.

Franco narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Dog videos?”

So Paulo ended up being made to laugh at dog videos until he finished his tea. And then Isco dozed off a little bit and Franco and Paulo took a few photos and teased him but he just continued sleeping with his mouth wide open so they decided that Isco was just going to have to sleep there for the night.

When Franco went outside to wash Paulo’s cup, Alvaro called.

Paulo let the phone ring for a while, wishing with a tiny part of him that Alvaro would hang up.

Not because he didn’t _want_ to talk to Alvaro, because. Because he did. Alvaro calling him at 10pm every night was, ironically, one of the only things that kept Paulo going. Alvaro’s voice. Alvaro asking about his day and about Winnie. Alvaro caring for him.

He took the call before it ran out.

“Hey,” Alvaro said. “Pau.”

“Hi, Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro gave a soft, relieved laugh, like he was just happy to hear Paulo’s voice. Paulo was, too. “How was your day?”

Paulo swallowed. He opened his mouth but nothing came out of it because Franco had reappeared and sat back down next to him. He mouthed ‘Morata?’ at Paulo. Paulo nodded.

“It was good,” Paulo said. It was the truth. “How was yours?”

“Not too bad,” Alvaro said. His season had just ended that weekend. “I got a flight to Turin tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. From the corner of his eye he saw Franco reach behind him and gently smack Isco awake. “Cool. Can’t wait to see you.”

“I love you, Paulo.”

Paulo had to bite his lip so he wouldn’t explode into a sob right then. He moved closer towards the foot of the bed, out of Franco’s way. “I love you too, Alvi,” he whispered.

“How was training?”

“I didn’t go,” Paulo said, clearing his throat. “I’m, um. I’m in Seville.”

A long pause.

“With Franco?”

Paulo nodded, then realised Alvaro couldn’t see him. “Yeah. And Isco.”

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow,” Paulo said. He didn’t think to tell Alvaro that Franco and Isco were going there, too. He didn’t have the strength or the energy. Besides, he figured Alvaro would find out himself sooner or later.

“Okay.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said softly so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was crying. “I’m – I’m just. A little tired. So I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Alvaro said again. “I love you so much.”

“Me, too,” Paulo whispered. “I love you, too.”

Alvaro hung up with a happy chuckle.

Paulo turned around and Isco and Franco were just watching him warily.

Paulo burst into tears. He burst into tears and he crawled into Franco’s open arms and let Franco hug him tight. For the last week and a half, Paulo hadn’t seen Alvaro once – but he always cried after Alvaro hung up the phone. Not because Alvaro made him _sad_ – well, maybe a little bit – but Paulo just. Just felt so helpless and unwanted. And speaking to Alvaro only served to reinforce the fact that Alvaro didn’t seem to want Paulo the same way Paulo wanted him.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Franco whispered. “Yeah? You are. You are going to be just fine.”

“How do you know that?” Paulo sobbed.

“Doesn’t matter how I know that,” Franco said. “Only that you know that, and you remember that.”

But Paulo didn’t and Paulo couldn’t, so he just let Franco hug him and he let Isco join in the hug a few moments later because he swore if he didn’t feel any warmth against him, he would just disintegrate into little pieces.

He was almost all cried out when Franco gently transferred him onto Isco’s shoulder. He reached over into the bedside drawer and retrieved a small unassembled Lego set.

“Here,” he said gently, grabbing Paulo’s hand and placing the Lego set in it. “We’ll help you put it together.”

Paulo didn’t respond, but he knew Franco knew him well enough not to think that meant a no, especially when Legos were involved. So he lifted the sheets and folded them over the lower half of the bed, clearing a space to empty the contents of the box into.

“C’mon,” Isco whispered, arm draped over Paulo’s shoulders to push him upright. He pressed his lips softly on the top of Paulo’s head, then guided Paulo’s hands to the Lego pieces.

Franco handed him some pieces to put together for a while, but soon stopped altogether and sat watching Paulo do it by himself.

Paulo soon realised why he did that, when he felt the gentle wave of accomplishment wash over him once he completed the little Lego bus and the accompanying bus station. He arranged them on the bed together with the two Lego people, then turned to Franco.

Franco gave him a proud smile and Paulo couldn’t help but smile back at him. He took the entire set and placed it on the bedside table. “Next time when people come over I’ll tell them my best friend made it,” he told Paulo.

Paulo laughed. Isco didn’t even argue, which made it even funnier. When Paulo turned to him he was just sitting there with his eyes darting around like he didn’t know if he _should_ argue. Paulo wrapped an arm around him. “He’s only saying that until you put one together for the other bedside table,” he told Isco.

Isco giggled. “That’s not gonna happen, I’m not gonna make some lame Lego set.”

“Hey,” Franco and Paulo said in unison.

Isco raised his hands in the air like he wanted out of this conversation. Then he stood up and stretched. “I guess we’ll leave you alone and go to bed now.”

He started walking out the door and Franco followed suit after rearranging the sheets over Paulo’s feet and picking Winnie up so she could sleep on the bed. And Paulo. Paulo was suddenly just. Just so _sure_ that he couldn’t spend the night alone.

“Hey,” he called after them before the door shut.

Franco’s head popped back around it. “Yeah?”

“I know this is stupid, but,” Paulo shrugged. Isco’s head appeared underneath Franco’s, like anything vaguely ‘stupid’ interested him. “Could you sleep with me? I...I don’t...really wanna be alone.”

Franco and Isco gave coordinated smiles. “Of course,” Isco said, then marched right in and returned to his place next to Paulo. Franco slipped under the blanket on Paulo’s other side. Then they turned off the lights and squeezed Paulo tight as they lay down.

Paulo proceeded to have the best night of sleep he’d had since a week and a half ago.

Despite the sardine tin situation, Paulo only woke up once in the night because Franco was wrapping his arms and legs around him. “Hmm,” he mumbled contemplatively into Paulo’s ear.

“I’m not Isco,” Paulo murmured.

“Hmm,” Franco said again. He stretched his arm and leg further so they reached Isco, dragging him closer so Franco was hugging him as well as Paulo.

Paulo could’ve sworn that he wouldn’t have been alive that night if it hadn’t been for Isco and Franco physically holding his pieces together.

\------

Alvaro arrived in Turin just before noon the next day.

Paulo was lazing on the couch when he heard keys at the door. Isco and Franco were in the kitchen making snacks or canoodling or whatever.

Paulo got up just as Alvaro rounded the corner of the entry hallway into the living room. His heart gave a few confused flutters before flopping down in its cage, discouraged. It was slightly uplifted when Alvaro flashed him a charming smile; the same charming smile Paulo had known for twelve years.

“Hi,” Paulo smiled.

“Hey, baby,” Alvaro said. He was hugging a giant box, which he put on the ground next to the couch.

Paulo sat down and Alvaro did the same next to him, after the briefest hesitation. They sat there smiling at each other for a while, neither of them really knowing what to do.

“What’d you bring?” Paulo finally asked, gesturing towards the box.

“Just some things for Winnie,” Alvaro said, eagerly reaching for the box and lifting it on his lap. “And for you. I got her some shirts and socks and this really good collar and leash I saw at the pet store, and the last time I noticed your wallet had a rip in it so I got you a new one, and also I got you some t-shirts.”

He took the things out of the box as he rambled, putting them on his and Paulo’s laps. And he looked so _excited_ and Paulo couldn’t help but feel the same, his sadness temporarily forgotten.

“Thank you,” he whispered when Alvaro had finished talking.

“Nah,” Alvaro smiled.

“Let’s get Winnie to try these on,” Paulo suggested. “You can call her. She sort of responds to Winnie now.”

So Alvaro called her a few times but she didn’t appear so Alvaro turned back to Paulo with this disappointed look on his face that Paulo couldn’t help but coo at. He asked Alvaro to try again and about five times later Winnie’s tiny face popped out from behind the wall. She stared at them for a few moments before trotting over and sitting down obediently at Alvaro’s feet, like she knew Alvaro was the one who’d called her despite having only literally met Alvaro once.

Then she slowly flopped down on the ground and rolled over on her back, feet wiggling in the air, asking for a belly rub again.

Alvaro burst into laughter. “What a smart girl,” he said, leaning over and scratching her tummy. “Hmm? Smart little pretty girl.”

Isco suddenly appeared from the kitchen carrying a plated _heaped_ with sandwiches. He was busy chomping down on one, not noticing Alvaro was there until he was halfway to the couch. He locked eyes with a confused Alvaro, then immediately turned around and scurried back to the kitchen like he wanted to strategise with Franco what their next move was.

“They’re here too?” Alvaro asked Paulo, who couldn’t actually do anything but nod.

Isco and Franco only needed like, two seconds to strategise, apparently, because they came out with the plate of sandwiches and two glasses of orange juice and put them on the table in front of Paulo and Alvaro. They seemed to get that Paulo and Alvaro needed some time alone. Maybe Paulo didn't exactly _want_ that, but he knew they needed that.

It suddenly felt eerily familiar, the suspense in the room similar to that one incident in 2015 when Franco and Alvaro nearly got into a fight in Paulo’s living room while Paulo was packing to move to Turin. Alvaro and Franco staring at each other like two boxers in a ring. Paulo – Paulo in the middle of it all, as he was.

Fortunately, there was no headbutting this time. There probably wouldn't be, with Isco around.

“Hi, Alvaro,” Isco said. He didn’t sound cold. He just sounded. A little bit like he didn’t really want to be there.

“We’re going – we’ll go to the mall,” Franco said.

“Yeah. To the mall.”

Then they grabbed their things and went out the front door quicker than anyone could say ‘Winnie.’

“So…” Alvaro said after they’d sat there for two whole minutes of silence. “They’re here.”

“Yeah, they wanted to come over and, um...and be with me for a while.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah, I thought. You’d know when you saw them.”

“So do they know?” Alvaro asked. “About...us.”

That turned out to be all it was. All the pain Paulo had suffered over the past ten days, all the ups and downs they’d had over the past twelve years, everything that had pulled them apart only to thrust them into each other’s arms again – in the end, all of it could just be easily put into a single word. _Us_.

“Yeah,” Paulo said.

“You told them?”

“Well how would they know otherwise?”

A beat of silence so tense Paulo could have popped it with a needle.

“I didn’t know that they knew,” Alvaro said.

Paulo shrugged. He didn’t exactly know what to say to that.

“Why’d you tell them?” Alvaro asked. Before Paulo could answer, he continued. “Yesterday, why didn’t you tell me they were coming back with you? You didn't even tell me you were going to Seville. Did you stay at Franco’s place?”

And Paulo. Paulo just snapped. He swept all the things on his lap onto the couch and stood up, suddenly towering over Alvaro.

“Why can't I talk to them?” he demanded, tears threatening to fall. “Why not? Why can't I talk to my friends who care about me and about how I feel? You don't have the right to get mad, or jealous, or whatever the hell you’re so fond of feeling! How many years has it been, Alvi? What does it do for you? Huh, Alvaro? What does all this do for you? I just want someone to talk to, someone who’ll listen to me and tell me it's all going to be okay when I just can't see it being okay. They're my friends just as much as they're yours and I just. I just need to. I need to be with someone and it just had to be them, okay? I don't have to tell you everything, Alvaro. You don't get to play with me like I'm a puppet. And you don't get to just come visit me and pretend that everything is fucking fine. Because it's not. And you don't get to be mad about this. You don't get to be mad about me trying to find some fucking way to get rid of all the fucking pain I've had to live with for the last week.”

He stormed into his room before Alvaro could see the tears rolling down his cheeks. He slammed the door shut and crawled under the covers, curling up tightly because he suddenly felt like he was going to break into pieces again and he didn't want to do that while Alvaro was around. He shut his eyes and let his sobs wrack his body, biting on his finger so he wouldn't make a sound.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard the sound of the doorknob turning. Maybe it was just five minutes. Maybe it was an hour. But the doorknob turned and Alvaro walked softly into the room.

The bed dipped ever so slightly as Alvaro sat down gingerly. He crawled over to Paulo’s side and placed a hand on Paulo’s shoulder.

Paulo recoiled and Alvaro’s hand retreated. He sat silently for a while before sniffling, making Paulo realize that he was crying and Paulo. Paulo felt so horrible for making _Alvaro cry._

“Paulo, I'm sorry,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Paulo whispered, because as much as it hurt hearing Alvaro cry, Paulo was still angry and sad.

“Paulo,” Alvaro pleaded. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Go away.”

“I didn't mean to ask you all those things,” Alvaro sobbed. “I didn't mean to make you feel like I was playing with you or suffocating you. I don't want to. I don't mean to. It's just. Just I feel like we’re drifting apart and I'm so scared of that happening, I've always been so scared but this time it feels so real and I don't want it to happen, Paulo, I don't want us to drift apart. I'm sorry. I love you, Paulo. I'm so sorry.”

“You don't get to crawl back every time expecting me to be okay with it,” Paulo mumbled.

“I know,” Alvaro said, crawling on his knees and putting both his hands on Paulo’s arm. This time Paulo didn't recoil. “I know, Pau. I know that. I'm sorry. I won't – I won't be so impulsive again.”

“Because I'm the impulsive one in this relationship,” Paulo said.

Alvaro paused, then gave Paulo’s arm a squeeze, like he understood that Paulo was offering a truce with his statement.

“Hey,” he said gently.

“It’s true,” Paulo whispered. Look at me. I'm fucking twenty seven years old and I'm still regretting every single thing I've ever done.”

“Don't say that,” Alvaro said, gently tugging on Paulo’s arm. “Hey. Look at me.”

Paulo reluctantly rolled over on his back so he could see Alvaro. Alvaro looked. Just so tired and forlorn.

“You're fucking twenty seven years old and you have done so many good things, you're the kindest person I know, and you're the fucking love of my life, okay?”

Paulo cracked a smile. “Yeah?”

Alvaro nodded. He scooped Paulo into his arms, bundling Paulo into a sitting position curled into Alvaro’s chest. He wiped Paulo’s cheeks with his soft fingers. “You, Paulo Bruno Dybala, are the love of my life.”

Paulo held on tightly to Alvaro's hand. “I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

Alvaro shook his head and Paulo felt it mussing up his hair. “I'm sorry for everything I said and did. I deserved it.”

Paulo sighed. “Alvi,” he whispered. “I'm sorry I proposed to you.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said. “Don't say that.”

“I just, you know, I keep thinking about it and I just don't know why I did it. I was fine. I was perfectly fine even if we didn't get married and we just lived together forever as a couple. But then I asked and now. Now it feels like. Like it's marriage or nothing. And it feels like I've ruined everything and I'm sorry, Alvi, I'm sorry.”

“Is it?” Alvaro asked. “Marriage or nothing?”

Paulo shook his head. “I don't want it to be.”

“Pau,” Alvaro said. “I've said this. I'm not saying no. It's not that I don't want to get married.”

“I know,” Paulo whispered. “Yeah.”

Alvaro gave the top of Paulo’s head a kiss. “So...what do we do now?”

“I guess we just continue trying to pretend it didn't happen.”

“Does that work?” Alvaro asked. “Will it work that way?”

Paulo smiled. Avoiding the problem had always been Alvaro’s specialty. He’d never questioned if it worked, because it usually worked for him. The fact that he was asking right then – well, it just showed how much he'd matured.

“We just have to try, Alvi.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said quietly.

“I just want you to know,” Paulo said. “That I'm proud of you. That you know exactly what you want and that you're so determined to have it that way. I'm proud of you.”

Alvaro grabbed Paulo’s head and tilted it upwards, his smile only as brief as the few seconds it took for him to close the gap and press his lips on Paulo’s. His lips were the same warm, gentle, comforting lips that never failed to bring Paulo out of any slump he was in.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Alvaro Morata.”

Alvaro’s smile grew even bigger. He pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head. “You look so tired,” he noted.

“I am,” Paulo said softly. “Alvi, sometimes I just feel like I want to die.”

“What?” Alvaro asked, and Paulo wasn't sure what made him spout that but he immediately regretted it. “Hey. What do you mean? What's wrong? Paulo. Hey. Why do you feel that way?”

“It's nothing,” Paulo quickly dismissed it. “It's just. Maybe I'm just tired.”

“No, hey, tell me about it. Talk to me.”

“I just feel...directionless.”

“You know you can talk to me, right? Anytime and about anything. You know that, right? It's always been like that. Yeah? Paulo.”

Alvaro was hugging him so _tightly_ against his chest that Paulo almost couldn't breathe. But it felt good. It always felt the best when Alvaro was the one trying to hold Paulo’s pieces together, instead of anyone else.

“I know,” Paulo whispered.

“You can't do that,” Alvaro said, voice thick like he was crying again. “Paulo. You can't do that. I love you. Please tell me you know that.”

“I do,” Paulo said. “Yeah. Alvi. Forget I said that.”

“No,” Alvaro said stubbornly. “If there's anything up, you tell me, okay? Whatever it is. I'll get through it with you.”

“Okay,” Paulo smiled. It always warmed his heart to know he had Alvaro.

“I love you so much,” Alvaro said, his fingers combing through Paulo’s hair, which he kissed.

“I love you, too.”

“You're so tired. Why don't you take a nap?”

It sounded like a good idea, but. “I want to see Winnie’s new things first.”

Alvaro beamed. “Okay,” he said, getting up and dragging Paulo outside.

They made Winnie try on the whole bunch of Pooh t-shirts that Alvaro got her. And they made her take a whole lot of photos. She was so photogenic and she even smiled at the camera while being held up by Paulo with the front of her little t-shirt showing, like a tiny blonde model.

Then Alvaro took out the dozen tins of gourmet dog food for baby dogs and it turned out that Winnie was hungry because she started yapping at their feet trying to get to the food, and then whined when she couldn't. Paulo tried to teach her to sit on command while Alvaro got the food in a bowl, but didn't succeed so much because she just kept barking at him in that adorable half-developed howl.

She was pacified once she got access to the food. Alvaro dug into one of the sandwiches that Isco and Franco had left, informing Paulo that they still tasted decent so Paulo could eat if he was hungry.

Paulo ate one and then took his nap snuggled up in Alvaro’s arms, the only place in which he could feel wanted and unwanted at the same time.

\------

Alvaro loved Paulo the most when he was asleep.

Sure, he loved Paulo when Paulo was laughing at his own jokes. He loved Paulo when he was watching Alvaro cook and trying to help by chopping some vegetables. He loved Paulo when he saw a dog and looked like he wanted to cry if they didn’t stop what they were doing and immediately go over to pet it. He loved Paulo when he was kind to strangers. He loved Paulo when Alvaro watched match reruns and he sat by the side patiently. He loved Paulo when he put his whole entire heart into something he decided to do.

But he loved Paulo the most when he was asleep.

He looked so peaceful, sleeping on Alvaro’s shoulder, thighs nestled in between Alvaro’s legs. His hand was softly clenched around the fabric of Alvaro’s shirt. He sometimes gave a sigh against Alvaro’s collarbone.

Alvaro reached for the juice on the coffee table and managed to sip from the straw without dribbling anything on Paulo’s head. It tasted a bit funny from being out too long, so he stopped.

Winnie came trotting over and lay down on her tummy on the floor next to them on the couch. Alvaro managed to unwrap his arm from around Paulo and stretch it out on the floor, coaxing Winnie to crawl up on it. She eventually did, draping herself over Alvaro’s forearm and letting Alvaro ferry her onto his chest with Paulo. She settled down on her tummy again, using her brand new beady eyes to peer at Alvaro.

“Hello,” Alvaro whispered. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met.”

Winnie didn’t respond, obviously. She just blinked at Alvaro.

Paulo’s phone vibrated loudly on the coffee table with a call from Franco. Alvaro hesitated a few moments before picking it up. “Hey,” he said.

“Um...hey,” Franco said. “Morata. Where’s Paulo?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“Oh,” Franco said, then turned to mumble to Isco, “He’s sleeping.”

Isco took the phone from him. “We found this park. There’s so many dogs.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alvaro said. “We’ve been there.”

“You guys wanna bring Winnie here? We can have dinner together.”

“Yeah, he’ll be awake soon,” Alvaro said softly, flattening Paulo’s hair. “Give him ‘bout half an hour. You two can decide what to eat.”

Alvaro hung up and put the phone back on the table. Paulo hadn’t stirred; he was a heavy sleeper, anyway. Winnie’s paw was on his hand, though, for some reason.

“You wanna go out and play?” Alvaro asked her, even though he was basically just talking to himself. “Hmm? We can try out your new leash and your new toys and you can wear your new clothes out.”

Winnie didn’t make any sound, only her eyes darting left and right. Alvaro continued, “We’ll go out to play, okay? You and your daddy and – well, I don’t know if I’m still your other daddy, but. I do hope I am. You know I love you very much, yeah? And your daddy does, too. Do you love him? You love your daddy? Let him know, okay? He has to know you love him. It’s very important, okay? He needs to know that we all love him very much. I don’t want him to be sad. I don’t want him to – I just don’t – he just can’t think he’s worthless or that he wants to...to _die_. Because he’s the most important person in my _life_ , okay? And I wish he knew that and I wish I didn’t do things to make him think that he’s not important. You have to be great to him, okay? You have to take care of him like he takes care of you. He’s so amazing and I just –”

Alvaro had to stop talking because he was just a blubbering mess, and he was fucking crying like a loser and Paulo was right _there_ on his chest and. Alvaro just. Alvaro was so fucking _scared_ that he would lose Paulo for good. He knew Paulo had always been some level of sad. Deep down Paulo had never been truly happy. He was full of self-hatred and the notion of inadequacy. But he always gave his best to the world and Alvaro never for a moment thought that Paulo ever had the sentiment of – of _dying_.

“I love you,” he whispered to Paulo, kissing the top of Paulo’s head.

This time, Paulo _did_ wake up. “I love you, too,” he murmured. “Why?”

Alvaro scrambled to wipe his tears, though Winnie helped a little bit by licking Alvaro’s face. “Nothing, just wanted to tell you that.”

Paulo smiled. He dozed for a while, fidgeting on Alvaro’s chest like he was trying to go back to sleep but couldn’t.

Alvaro told him about the dinner plans and he got up to shuffle to the shower. Alvaro started packing some of Winnie’s things into a backpack but then suddenly got worried about Paulo again so he went and sat on a kitchen stool outside the toilet.

Paulo smiled when he came back outside and Alvaro was just watching him creepily. He went up to Alvaro, shoved Alvaro’s thighs apart with his legs, and stood in between them to give Alvaro the biggest, warmest hug.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered back.

“Thanks for being with me today.”

Alvaro kissed him on the temple. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Will you be staying till the final?”

“Do you want me to? I can stay.”

“I mean, do you – do you want to?”

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay.”

Alvaro. Alvaro hated how forced it felt. He just wanted Paulo to smile again. He wrapped Paulo in another hug but he got the same vaguely sad smile from Paulo.

They spent some time figuring out how to put on Winnie’s new collar and leash. It came with a little flower-shaped dog tag that read ‘Winnie’ and Paulo couldn’t stop cooing over it. Winnie, on the other hand, couldn’t _wait_ to get outside. She sat patiently by the door as Paulo and Alvaro checked that they had everything, then charged outside once the door was open. She eventually came trotting back because there were people on the street and she got scared.

Isco texted that they were getting a pizza to share, so Alvaro and Paulo took a stroll to the park. It was quiet – and not in the way they were used to, but just so. So tense and awkward. There wasn’t a single squeak from either of them except when they had to squat to urge Winnie along when she got confused. She got the gist of it after a while, though, and actually pulled on her leash to look at some plants or in some windows.

“I guess she likes walks,” were Paulo’s first words in the entire twenty minutes.

Alvaro smiled. “Haven’t met a dog who doesn’t.”

Paulo’s lips turned up slightly at the corners. He gestured at the backpack Alvaro was carrying. “Thanks for getting her all this stuff.”

“Sure,” Alvaro said. “She’s – I mean, she’s...she’s kinda mine, too – I mean, I love her, too.”

Paulo laughed and it was like a heavy weight lifted off Alvaro’s chest. “She’s both of ours,” he said as they stepped into the big grass patch in the park and Winnie, having found a soft spot she liked, had rolled over on her back again. Paulo knelt next to her and squeezed her face. “Right? You have two daddies who love you very much.”

Winnie gave him this goofy look that only intensified when Paulo gave her tummy a ruffle. Isco and Franco waved them over from a bench, so Paulo got up and gestured for Winnie to run towards them. Alvaro followed slowly behind as Paulo jogged with Winnie.

Dinner was a large pepperoni pizza for the three of them, and a chicken salad and tomato pasta for Paulo because he wasn’t on his off-season diet yet. He did sneak in a slice, though, while Isco was very conveniently distracting the other two with his incessant rambling.

“Do you think Winnie wants some?” he asked.

Everyone stared at him for a few moments.

“I don’t think dogs should eat pepperoni,” Isco said.

“Aren’t you supposed to not be eating that?” Franco asked.

Paulo narrowed his eyes and passed his half-eaten pizza slice to Alvaro. “Fine, dads.”

Winnie was ready to play again once she finished her dog food-water mixture and milk. She stretched out her leash, which was tied to the bench, but no one really noticed her except Paulo, who had finished his food and was sitting right beside her.

“Don’t get cramps,” Alvaro called as Paulo gleefully untied Winnie and went romping around the grass patch with her.

“Okay mom,” Paulo called back.

Isco burst into laughter. “Notice how we’re ‘dads’ and you’re ‘mom’?”

Alvaro rolled his eyes. “Nothing wrong with being a mom.”

There was a short silence as Alvaro chomped on the crust of his pizza slice. Franco had his arm draped over Isco’s shoulders and Isco was playing with Franco’s fingers dangling over his shoulder. He occasionally turned and put his face right up into Franco’s while he spoke, making Franco shrink a little backwards for the sole purpose of looking at him.

So Alvaro felt a little guilty for bursting their private bubble and saying, “I heard you guys know.”

Franco turned to him, then turned away to avoid eye contact. He peered at Isco as Isco said, “Um, yeah.”

“I just,” Alvaro sighed. “Look, before you take any sides, I just want you to hear me out.”

“We’re not taking any sides. I’ve told you this before, Alvaro. There are no sides in this whole thing. It’s your relationship.”

“You say that, but you’re still a little on his side, aren’t you?”

Isco went quiet, proving Alvaro’s point. He turned back to stare ahead, but Franco leaned out from behind him and raised a brow at Alvaro like he was telling Alvaro to continue.

“We’ll hear you out,” he said.

Alvaro was surprised but he took it. “You guys – you know that feeling where you really wanna do something, but you’re not ready to do it, and you feel like if you go ahead you’ll just regret it or screw everything up?”

No one answered his question, so he continued.

“That’s how I feel about this. I want to marry Paulo. You guys know this more than anyone else in this entire world. _I want to marry Paulo_. It’s just. At this point of my life, where I am right now, I just – I can’t do it. Okay? If I were living in Turin, maybe, or if Paulo were living in London. But now, I just. I know it’ll happen eventually. You know? For me and Paulo, it’s just. It’s gonna be forever. And it doesn’t matter at which point of our forever that we put it down on paper. But if it’s right now, then – I don’t know if I can do it. We’re...we’re in different places. Not just physically, but, like – like mentally, too. And I don’t want to get into something where...where I can’t give Paulo the best. I just, you know, maybe...maybe if I hurt him this once. It’s better than hurting him in the long run. If I regret it and I have to tell him I don’t want to marry him after I said yes.”

There was this. This really, really extended silence. Alvaro didn’t dare to turn in case Isco and Franco were both fuming at him. He just stared straight ahead at Paulo, so clueless and so innocent, throwing Winnie’s new ball for her to fetch.

“I get it,” Franco finally said, so softly everyone almost missed it.

Alvaro turned to stare at him, surprised again. Isco did the same.

“What?” Isco asked, out of pure shock than anything else.

“I get it,” Franco repeated. “I mean, I wouldn’t start anything I’m not ready for, either. It’s just that...maybe you guys just aren’t at the same place in life. You know? Paulo’s all settled, he’s been in Turin for six years and I guess he sees himself here for a long while. But you’re still not settled. You don’t see yourself staying in London and you’re just – you’re constantly preparing for change. And you don’t like that this change might bring you further away from Paulo. That’s why you said no. Yeah?”

Alvaro nodded. There was suddenly a lump in his throat that was begrudgingly dislodged when Alvaro croaked, “Yeah.”

“You think it’s better that you say no now and then try to rearrange your life so that soon, you can say yes.”

Alvaro nodded again.

Isco turned from Franco to Alvaro, then back to Franco again. Then back to Alvaro. “But aren’t you afraid that you might be taking him for granted? I mean, you said so yourself. You think it’s going to be forever. If you think it’s going to be forever, then everything you do, you’re thinking ‘it’s okay, Paulo’s gonna stick with me.’ What if one day, he doesn’t anymore?”

Alvaro smiled wryly at his hands. “That’s what Paulo’s mom told me.”

“It’s a fine line,” Franco said helpfully. “But I do get it. I really do.”

“Why are you suddenly up Alvaro’s ass?” Isco asked.

“I am not,” Franco retorted. “It’s just. I see both sides of it. Okay? Alvaro needs this, too, just as much as Paulo does. I mean, come on. If I proposed to you right now, would you say yes?”

Isco hesitated for a moment before saying nervously, “No?”

“But you want to get married one day, don’t you? To me?”

Isco’s eyes darted around anxiously like Franco was revealing one of his deepest secrets. “Yeah?”

“But just not right now.”

“Yeah.”

“See?”

Isco huffed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I don’t wanna get married to you anymore.”

Franco burst into adoring laughter. “Same,” he said. He wrapped his arm more tightly around Isco and squished him in a tight hug.

Alvaro couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks,” he said.

“Yeah,” Isco said, clapping Alvaro on the shoulder. “Just...try to stop breaking the poor boy’s heart, ‘kay?”

Alvaro nodded. Isco and Franco began whispering in their huddle again so Alvaro took the pizza box with the remaining slice of pizza and snuck it to Paulo.

“Here, I got you one,” he said, sitting down next to Paulo in the grass.

Paulo smiled. “I don’t think I should be eating oily stuff.”

“Just a slice,” Alvaro said. He found a clean paper napkin beside the slice of pizza and gently pressed it on top of the slice. “I’ll dab the oil off for you.”

Paulo watched eagerly as he did so. He munched happily on the slice when Alvaro deemed it oil-free enough. “Thank you,” he said, mouth full with cheese and pepperoni.

Winnie came romping over and sat down obediently in front of them, eyes fixed on the slice of pizza Paulo was very rapidly devouring. She gazed at Paulo, then at Alvaro, who caved and reached for the kibble in their backpack. Winnie ate quietly from his hand.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Paulo smiled. He found Alvaro’s clean hand with his, fingers sliding gently between Alvaro’s. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

Alvaro looked at him and just. Just saw a fragile little boy who tried so hard to keep everything inside himself it was almost as if he believed that amalgam of feelings in his chest could be the glue that held all his pieces together.

Paulo really hadn’t changed since day one.

“You have no idea, Paulo,” Alvaro said softly before he realised the words were actually coming out of his mouth.

“Hmm?” Paulo asked. “What?”

“How much I love you.”

Paulo chuckled. He covered his and Alvaro’s hands with his other hand. “I think I do.”

“You sure?”

“Maybe you could say it a few more times.”

So Alvaro did, many more times, every time the trees rustled in the wind or a bird chirped as it flew by. When the children across the grass patch restarted their game of catch. Whenever a dog passed by, tongue out and tail wagging, happy to be out for a walk. _I love you, I love you, I love you_ , whenever there was the sound of life. For the presence of life itself reminded Alvaro that the sole purpose of his existence was to give Paulo all the love he could afford.

\------

The Champions League final was the most magical night Paulo had ever experienced.

Juventus won 2-1 on the night against Barcelona, Paulo scoring both of Juve’s goals – the first an equaliser on the hour, and the second in the ninth minute of extra time.

The trophy and medal presentation went by in a blur. Paulo received his man of the match plaque in the media zone, gave a hysterical interview, and then headed straight back to the pitch to rejoin his teammates.

He got his hands on the trophy in a lucky gap between everyone hoarding it to take photos. He wandered in a circle before eventually spotting his mom and brothers standing at the side looking for him, and – and Alvaro next to them, excitedly pointing at Paulo when he spotted him.

Paulo ran straight up to him, dropped the trophy and plaque, and leapt up on Alvaro like a koala.

“I’m so proud of you,” Alvaro whispered, mouth pressed to Paulo’s ear.

“Hi, Alvi,” Paulo breathed.

Alvaro chuckled. “Hi,” he said, putting Paulo down and cupping his cheeks. “Hi. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You did it. Pau, you did it.”

“I did,” Paulo whispered. He _had_ done it. He had finally done it, after six years. “Do you think –”

“He is,” Alvaro interrupted. “Yeah. Your dad’s really proud of you.”

Paulo smiled. He closed the gap between himself and Alvaro and pressed his lips on Alvaro’s soft, upturned ones. They tasted lovely and they sent Paulo’s heart aflutter.

Then Paulo was passed to his mom and brothers, who said the same things Alvaro had just did. He took a few photos with everyone, and then with Alvaro, who just _wouldn’t let him go_. He followed Paulo everywhere he went, even when Paulo went alone to salute the fans. He just stood at the back and smiled when people yelled his name. He even caught an Argentina flag for Paulo when someone threw it down, and wrapped it around Paulo’s shoulders.

“Thanks for coming to watch me,” Paulo said as they were finishing their round of the pitch.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alvaro smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for these things. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. Somehow, he felt like he had to.

They reached Paulo’s family again, sitting on the bench. Paulo told them to join the bus taking families back to the team hotel because he wanted to hang out with Alvaro a little longer.

They sat down on the ground near the center circle. There were still some of Paulo’s teammates sprinkled around them, but they soon cleared the pitch. The crowds had cleared, too, but the stadium lights were still at full brightness.

“This is a dream come true,” Paulo said, soaking in the eventual silence of the stadium.

Alvaro wrapped his hand around Paulo’s and gave it a soft squeeze. “I know, baby. You did so well today and I’m so happy I got to watch you. I’m so happy I got to watch you grow all these years.”

“I love you, Alvi.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro said, combing Paulo’s sweaty fringe back on his head and giving it a kiss. “Do you want to go inside and be with your teammates?”

Paulo shook his head. “This is enough.”

Alvaro was smiling the proudest, sweetest, most loving smile when he leaned towards Paulo and kissed him on the lips. Paulo let himself be lost in the kiss for a while, lips working against Alvaro’s so fluently it was like they had been made for each other. Their breaths mingling, chilly with the night yet humid with sweat at the same time. Their hands, Alvaro’s on Paulo’s cheek and Paulo’s on Alvaro’s shoulder, and their free hands clasped together. This feeling, that very feeling on that very night – that was what Paulo lived for. He was a champion in all meanings of the word. He had a Champions League medal and he also had the biggest trophy of all time – he had Alvaro.

Paulo received a few kisses on his nose and eyelids as he pulled away, then a soft giggle from Alvaro as he lay down on his back.

Paulo examined his plaque for a while. _UEFA CHAMPIONS LEAGUE FINAL, LYON 2021, MAN OF THE MATCH,_ it read. It reflected the stadium lights in rainbow iridescence.

Paulo was the _man of the match_.

It suddenly hit him how huge an achievement that was – how huge an achievement _that entire night_ was. Juve’s first Champions League in twenty-five years. Paulo’s first Champions League _ever_.

“Hey, Pau,” Alvaro said, tugging on the back of Paulo’s shirt until Paulo collapsed in a heap next to him, looking up at the night sky framed by the stadium roof. He pointed at the single bright bluish star in the sky. “Look. Your dad’s watching.”

And Paulo. Paulo was suddenly so _overwhelmed_ tears started to fall from his eyes. “Yeah, he is,” he whispered, placing his plaque face-up on his chest so. So maybe his dad could see it. “Yeah.”

Alvaro kissed him on the head again, then bundled him up so he was lying comfortably on Alvaro’s bicep. It took him a while to realise Paulo was sobbing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Paulo shrugged. “Just,” he started, but was unable to continue. There was a long pause before he managed to continue, “My dad’s watching.”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro murmured.

It was just complete silence for a long while. Paulo didn’t know how much time passed. The floodlights turned off but they were guided by the lights in the stadium stands. Alvaro gently ran circles on Paulo’s forearm because it calmed the both of them.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered back.

“Are you happy?”

And Paulo. Even though Paulo was lying on a football field, one of his favourite places on earth, holding a man of the match plaque for winning the Champions League, with his father watching over him and in the embrace of his favourite person in the entire universe – Paulo still couldn’t say he was happy.

He didn’t give Alvaro an answer. He just burrowed deeper into Alvaro’s shoulder and tried but failed not to cry even harder. Paulo didn’t think that knot in his chest – that knot that had been in his chest since he was fifteen and his entire life had changed, that knot whose existence Paulo had always tried his hardest to deny – would ever go away. Paulo didn’t think that sadness in him would ever go away.

But it was those nights lying with his Alvaro, not saying anything, trying not to feel anything – it was those nights that made Paulo feel like maybe one day, it would.


	6. The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Mad World by Gary Jules.

The week after the Champions League final, just before they were to embark on their summer holiday, Isco and Franco went down to the orphanage for a counselling session.

“They’re going to reject me,” were the first words out of Franco’s mouth when they woke up that morning.

“Why would you say that?” Isco yawned. “Stop saying that. You don’t know that.”

“I just have a bad feeling,” Franco said.

Isco wrapped his arms around Franco’s waist and pulled his hardest until Franco was lying down again. He draped himself over Franco and sighed. “Did you have a bad dream again?”

“No,” Franco said defensively. “I’m just worried.”

Isco straddled Franco’s hips and pressed his lips on Franco’s. “You’re gonna be alright,” he said between kisses. “They’ll love you.”

Franco gave a long, low whine. “Stop kissing me. You fucking stink.”

“I don’t care,” Isco said. “You need to loosen up.”

Franco struggled to push him off before standing up and heading into the bathroom. Isco wrapped himself up in the sheets and fell back asleep until Franco came back a half hour later and nudged him awake.

“Time to go,” he said.

“It’s early,” Isco said.

“We should go early. You know? Kinda like a job interview.”

“What do you even know about job interviews? Have you ever had a job?”

“I’ve had a job.”

“As what?”

“I worked as a waiter a few months. And a shop assistant.”

“And were you early for those interviews?”

A short pause. “No.”

Isco swung his hand and slapped Franco right in the face. “So, five more minutes.”

Franco scoffed and stood up. “Fine, I’ll go by myself.”

Isco lazed around for a couple minutes before getting up because he supported Franco with everything he had and there was no way he was going to let Franco face this alone.

So he got up, brushed his teeth and took a quick shower, and went outside to see Franco pacing the living room so intensely Isco could almost see the dents his feet put in the floor.

Isco went up behind him and wrapped his arms tightly around Franco’s waist, stopping him from walking. “Hey. Stop this.”

“I’m just so – I’m a little scared.”

“They just want to know what kind of person you are and then they can let you foster a child that you’d get along with.”

“What if there’s no child that I can get along with?”

“There will be. Franco, you’ve been volunteering there for a while now. There will be someone.”

Franco turned around and hung his arms around Isco’s neck, looking just a bit more relieved as Isco smiled up at him. “You think so?”

Isco nodded eagerly. “I mean, if you can get along with me, I think you can get along with anyone.”

Franco laughed and gave Isco’s nose a wiggle. “But you get along with everybody.”

“Yeah, but _you_ get along with me. Emphasis on _you_.”

Franco seemed okay after that, though still a little quiet. But Isco was used to it by then. He drove Franco to the orphanage in complete silence.

They were forty minutes early for their appointment.

The waiting room seemed too suffocating for Franco even though they were the only two people there, so he wandered outside and sat on a bench overlooking the children’s playground. Isco wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what to _do_. Franco had closed up on himself again, his hands stuck in his pockets so Isco couldn’t even hold them if he wanted to.

“So which kid do you get along the most with?” Isco asked.

Franco shrugged. He gazed around the courtyard but didn’t say anything. Isco waited.

Eventually, Franco said, “All of them?”

Isco chuckled. He was pretty sure he couldn’t argue with that if he tried. “I think so, too.”

“Too bad I can’t take all of them home.”

“You know what you can be after you retire from football?”

“An events organiser?” Franco asked. “You told me that before.”

“An events organiser at an orphanage. How’s that sound?”

Franco smiled. “Better.”

Isco placed his hand palm up on Franco’s thigh. “Can I hold your hand please?”

Franco took one hand out of his pocket and placed it in Isco’s. It was a little clammy but Isco curled his fingers around it and gave it a squeeze.

“It’s just...a little scary, you know?” Franco said softly. “Like, the thing I’ve been wanting my entire life. It’s my _dream_. And to think that all these years hinges on today. You know? It’s just. It scares me that today could just. Just change my entire life.”

“It _is_ going to change your entire life,” Isco said. “‘Cause they’re gonna love you, and they’re gonna put you on the waiting list.”

Franco leaned over and kissed Isco on the lips. “Thank you for supporting me about this.”

“Of course,” Isco said, booping Franco on the nose. “Silly Franny.”

“Remember you asked me whether I wanted a boy or a girl?”

“Yeah?”

“Do _you_ want a boy or a girl?”

Isco grinned at him. He’d have been lying if he’d told Franco he had no preference, or that he hadn’t thought about it.

Isco wanted a girl.

It wasn’t because they already had Junior, but – well, it was a little bit because of that. But Isco just _knew_ Franco would be so good with a little girl. With his gentle hands and his kind smile and his ability to make _anyone_ feel like they were the best in the world. Franco would definitely make his little girl feel like the most beautiful princess in the universe. He would let her play with dolls and cars and balls and Nerf guns and Legos – _God_ , Franco would let her be so _obsessed_ with Legos – and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid about how society wanted her to be. Franco. Franco was going to be so amazing with a girl. He would protect her and he would teach her to protect herself and always believe in herself.

But Isco knew if he told Franco he wanted a girl then _Franco_ would go and say he wanted a girl when he in fact really had no preference. Isco believed he had no preference because if there was one person on earth that could be completely neutral, it was Franco Vazquez.

So Isco didn’t tell him.

Instead, he said, “I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” Franco asked sadly.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Tell me,” Franco poked him in the sides. “Isco. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

“You’re mean.”

“Look,” Isco giggled, pushing Franco’s hands away because they were getting so intrusive. “On the day you take your new child home, I’ll tell you what my preference was. Deal?”

“Deal,” Franco said. He smiled at Isco but it soon turned into an open-mouthed look of shock as he gasped. “Wait, I know what you want!”

“How do you know?”

“I know! You want a boy!”

“Why would you say that?”

“You said your favourite is that little boy with the bowl cut!”

Isco burst into laughter. For the first time Isco remembered since first meeting Franco, Franco was wrong about him. “Doesn’t mean I want a boy, I just like his haircut.”

“Oh, really,” Franco said. “Why don’t you cut your hair that way then?”

“Not on _me_ ,” Isco said. “On him.”

“So you don’t want a boy?”

“No.”

“So you want a girl!”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well, it’s either a boy or a girl, and you said no to boy!”

“I’m saying no to girl too.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Isco laughed. “I don’t want a boy or a girl. I just want you to be happy and I want your new kid to be happy. Okay? Doesn’t matter to me. It’s your kid.”

“But it’s kinda,” Franco shrugged. “It’s kinda _our_ kid.”

Isco kissed him on the cheek. “Doesn’t matter to me,” he said, again, for what seemed like the millionth time.

Five minutes later the counselor, Carlos, walked out the building with a thin file folder in his hand. He looked around for a while before spotting Isco and Franco and coming over to them.

“Hi, Franco,” he smiled. He was a tiny old man with thick glasses and he was always smiling. Isco didn't really know what Franco was so afraid of. “Hi, Isco. I don't think this will take long because we already know you from all your volunteering.”

“Hi,” Franco said quietly, then went quiet for a while. “Should we...uh, go inside?”

“It’s okay, we can do it out here,” Carlos said. “It can get a little cramped inside.”

Franco turned to Isco, who gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. Carlos took a seat on the bench across the table and opened his folder, running his finger down the lines of words.

“Background, occupation, financial status, we know all that already,” he recited. “You recently became a legal guardian of a six year old boy. Tell me more about that.”

“Um,” Isco interrupted before Franco could say anything. “Should I leave?”

Carlos blinked at him. “Are you going to be a part of this little child’s life?”

“Yeah,” Isco said.

“Then you can stay,” he smiled. “And I can get to know you better, too.”

Isco’s name hadn’t been on any of the forms Franco had submitted, but he thought since Carlos had invited him to stay, there wasn’t any harm.

“So tell me about your little boy,” Carlos smiled.

“He’s Isco’s son,” Franco said eagerly. “His name is Junior. He’s turning seven in August. I’ve known him since he was a year and a half old. I was lucky he liked me. He’s so happy and easy-going and he’s always been more mature and understanding than his age, which is totally because of Isco and Sonia – Junior’s mom – and their amazing parenting. I’ve learnt so much from them and their son.”

“Do you take care of him often?”

“Yeah, most of the time when Isco’s busy,” Franco said. “Junior lives with Isco. So sometimes I go to Madrid when I have a few days and I take care of Junior. Or he comes to Seville.”

“Why do you wish to have another child?”

“It’s been part of my plan since I was young,” Franco said softly. “Younger. I’ve always wanted a child but I’ve never felt ready until recently. I want to give a child a home and all the love I can afford them, because I _can_ afford it, I can give them a comfortable home and food and clothes, and I’ve always hoped that I could see the world with a kid of my own and they could teach me things just like how they look to me to teach them things. I mean, I’m not saying this place can’t give them a comfortable home and food and clothes, but it’s just – I can, too, and it would benefit both of us and lessen the burden on this place if I could.”

Carlos smiled a warm smile. “It’s different. A child in an orphanage or hopping foster homes, and a child who has a stable home. I know it’s a sensitive topic, but it really is different. I don’t mean that if a child lives without a family for their whole lives, they’ll turn out different. They can turn out to be the most successful and kind people in the world. But to shower them with warmth and closeness only a family can give – that gives them something else.”

“I want to give them that,” Franco said.

Carlos flipped through a few pages in the file, which turned out to be the forms Franco had submitted. “I see that you’ve only put down your own name as a parent, but not Isco’s. Why is that?”

“Um,” Franco stammered. He turned nervously to Isco. “I – uh.”

“We’re not married,” Isco answered for him. “We’re just – a couple. Living together sometimes. I thought that wouldn’t look so good. So I asked him to leave me out.”

“Would you like to be a part of this, though?”

“Of course,” Isco smiled. “I support it with all I have.”

“We just – we heard that we could add a name later on,” Franco added. “Like, when we sign the foster forms. Or when we convert it to an adoption.”

“You could,” Carlos said. “Or you can add the name now. It shouldn’t make a difference, in my personal opinion, but applications from couples usually are more successful than those from individuals.”

Franco turned to Isco again with a raised brow. Isco smiled at him.

“Sure,” he said.

So he watched as Franco filled in the missing parts of the form, and he felt so happy and so proud and so _excited_ because Franco was going to get a _baby_ and it was going to be half Isco’s, too.

“Do you have any preferences on the gender?” Carlos asked.

Franco turned to Isco. Again. Like he was waiting for Isco to just blurt it out, that sly monster.

Isco laughed. “Nope. No preference.”

“Age?”

Isco almost said no again but he realised Franco had never talked about this. He looked at Franco and Franco was just nervously playing with his fingers, only realising everyone was staring at him a couple of moments later.

“Um,” he said. “I – if it’s okay. I want – I hope I can have, like, a tiny one. A tiny baby.”

And he was making gestures with his hands to show the size of the baby and _no baby at that orphanage was that small_ but it was so _adorable_ and endearing and Isco couldn’t help but smile.

“A tiny one,” Carlos repeated, chuckling. “How small? The age?”

“Maybe...maybe a year old? Or a little younger. But around a year old?”

“The youngest kid at this orphanage is currently about a year old,” Carlos said. “We have a few kids around that age, actually.”

Franco nodded eagerly, he nodded so quickly Isco was worried his head might fall off his shoulders.

“But I’m not sure how old these children will be by the time this process is finished. If you want, we can liaise with other places.”

“It’s okay,” Franco said. “The age isn’t important.”

“So you hope to get one from this orphanage.”

“Yeah.”

“Have you considered directly communicating with future parents who know that they are going to give their child up for adoption?”

“I have,” Franco said. “But I have a bond with these children here. I’ve been visiting for over a year now. These children all mean a lot to me and it would be my biggest honour and pleasure to give one of them a home.”

Carlos put the file on the table and closed it. “Okay, this should be all for now,” he said. “We’ll do a house visit soon, just to see the situation at home, then we’ll be all set.”

“Um, actually,” Isco said. “We had a social worker come by to do a house visit before Franco’s guardianship got approved. It was probably two or three months ago. Maybe we can send you her contact and you could get what you need from her?”

“That’d be good,” Carlos smiled. “Saves everyone the trouble.”

“Thank you,” Isco said. Franco looked a bit shaken but he was smiling timidly at Isco.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Carlos asked.

“How long does it usually take?” Franco asked. “This whole process?”

“It varies,” Carlos said. “It could take a few months, or it may take a year. Some people wait longer than a year. But you have an amazing record and you’re a volunteer with us, so we’ll definitely put in a good word for you.”

“You think I could get a kid real soon?”

“Yes, Franco, I think you’ll be on the waiting list in no time at all.”

Franco beamed. He turned to Isco and his big grin grew even more. “Thank you very much,” he said, though it sounded more like it was to Isco rather than to Carlos.

“It’s always a pleasure to help,” Carlos said. “This isn’t so difficult because you have experience with a child, but I need you to know that being responsible for a child as their foster parent or adoptive parent is different from volunteering at an orphanage. You will be solely responsible for their well-being, not us. And if anything goes wrong, then the authorities have the right to return the child to us.”

Franco nodded. “I understand,” he said.

“I have another appointment in a while,” Carlos said. “You’re free to leave, or you can hang out with the kids.”

Franco and Isco thanked him again and then he was back inside, still smiling to himself. Franco was quiet as he held on to Isco’s hand and brought him around to find a classroom where some children were having a math lesson. They stood at the door and looked inside like a couple of creeps.

“We look like creeps,” Isco pointed out.

Franco smiled dreamily. “I know.”

“Should we go?”

“Look at them,” Franco whispered. “They’re so cute. And they love math. Look at their tiny eager faces.”

Isco laughed. “Franco, I can’t wait till you get your kid.”

“Yeah?” Franco turned around, and Isco took this brief window of distraction to drag Franco down the hall and back outside. “You can’t?”

“Mmhmm. We are gonna be so great.”

“Alarcon,” Franco said. “I’m sorry I left your name out.”

“I made you do it.”

“Yeah, but I could’ve just put it in.”

“It’s okay,” Isco smiled. “This is yours. Okay? It’s what you’ve wanted for years. I’m just...just so happy I get to have a little part in it.”

“Of course,” Franco stopped to kiss Isco on the head. “You will always have a part in anything I do.”

Isco tucked Franco’s stray hair into his main fluff. “Let’s go home and pack?”

“Let’s get something to eat first,” Franco said. “Now that it’s over I’m so relieved I could eat an entire cow.”

Isco laughed but he brought Franco out for some steak, anyway, and watched Franco gobble it all up like a little hungry child.

“I love you, Franny,” he said as Franco poked around in Isco’s plate for some onions. It was one of the rare times Isco ate more slowly than Franco.

Franco grinned at him. “I love you too, Franny,” he said, before crunching down on the onion slice he’d found.

“I just think that life with you is gonna be so great.”

“Yeah?” Franco asked. “Yeah. The past five years have been great.”

“Five years,” Isco whispered. “Wow.”

“I didn’t even think I would ever be in any kind of relationship but,” Franco shrugged. “Look. Five years.”

“I love you so much.”

“Me, too,” Franco smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Isco laughed.

“I don’t know. For everything.”

Isco smiled. He didn’t think ‘thank you’ could cut it for everything Isco had to be grateful for because of Franco. He didn’t think _anything_ could cut it for all the great times Franco and him had been through those last five years.

All he could do was look forward to the years ahead.

He ended up giving Franco the remainder of his steak. Franco made a big deal about Isco still being hungry but once convinced otherwise, proceeded to gobble it up in no more than two minutes, making Isco recall that Franco had been so nervous he hadn’t even eaten dinner the previous night.

God, he hoped Franco could bring a child home really soon.

But maybe. Maybe sometimes things just needed time to work themselves out. Isco truly believed the right kid was out there for Franco. So it didn’t matter how long it took for them to be matched up; as long as they were matched up, in the end, Isco knew he and Franco would be willing to wait.

\------

Summer was pretty much routine by then.

Isco and Franco would first go to Málaga to visit Isco’s family and leave Junior, then they would fly to Córdoba to visit Franco’s family. After that, they would go on their own vacation; most of the time they went on their own, but there was one year they did a double with Paulo and Alvaro again. Regardless, they would find some time to chill with the two idiots at the end of summer.

Paulo and Alvaro, similarly, would go to Madrid, then to Córdoba, and to their own holiday.

That summer turned out to be a little bit different.

The plan had been per usual – Alvaro would pack his things in London, go to Turin, pack with Paulo, then the both of them would go to Madrid and stay a few days. They would meet up with Isco and Franco in Buenos Aires because that year they’d been planning to go to Japan together.

Alvaro arrived at Paulo’s house to some sort of musty smell. There was a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink. There was an open suitcase in the corner of the living room, piled high with unfolded clothes. Winnie was in her corner, next to an empty bowl which Alvaro proceeded to fill. She ravaged it like she hadn’t eaten in a long time.

Paulo was in bed, half-tangled with the sheets.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered from the door. When Paulo didn’t respond, he went inside and sat on the bed. “Hey. Pau.”

Paulo turned around and. And his eyes were bloodshot and they were heavy with dark circles and Paulo looked so _broken_ Alvaro’s heart instantly shattered into a thousand pieces.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, crawling closer to Paulo and wrapping Paulo in a hug. “What happened?”

“I can’t sleep,” Paulo whispered. His breath smelled like stale bread.

“What happened?” Alvaro asked again.

“The past week, I just sleep for an hour and then I wake up and I can’t go back to sleep and I’m so tired, Alvi. I want to sleep but I can’t.”

“Are you sick?” Alvaro put the back of his hand to Paulo’s forehead. It was a little warm from being stuffed into Paulo’s pillow, but not the least bit feverish.

“I just wanna sleep,” Paulo mumbled.

“Hey,” Alvaro said, grasping Paulo’s chin and turning it towards him. “Hey. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I don’t remember.”

Alvaro watched him for a while. He seemed distracted and just...just sad. He didn’t respond when Alvaro pressed his lips on his head, nor when Alvaro combed his tangled hair with his fingers.

“Let’s go take a shower, okay?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo didn’t say a word, just sighed and curled up even further.

“Maybe it’ll make you feel better,” Alvaro said. “Yeah? I’ll help you.”

Paulo reluctantly got out of bed after Alvaro promised to help. He shuffled his feet to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet as Alvaro got him some fresh clothes. He was limp as Alvaro helped him remove his clothes, but could stand on his own when Alvaro placed him at the corner of the shower and washed him off, getting his own clothes wet in the process. He paused to change out of them.

“How’re you feeling?” Alvaro asked, turning the shower off and lathering body wash all over Paulo. “Is it cold? Do you feel cold?”

Paulo shook his head. He placed his hands on Alvaro’s and gently pushed them away. “I’ll do it myself,” he whispered.

“I’ll do it for you,” Alvaro said, placing his hands on Paulo’s abdomen. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Paulo’s lips curled up a little at the ends and it was the tiniest, most beautiful smile Alvaro had ever set his eyes on. He peered at Alvaro’s face as Alvaro continued soaping him off and moving to the shampoo, hands hesitantly moving on Alvaro’s body, like he wanted to do it for Alvaro too but simply had no energy to.

Alvaro left him alone as he moved under the shower stream to let the water wash off all the suds. He stood and watched the contours of Paulo’s body fold and unfold like a work of 3D art. He smiled when Paulo turned to look for him. He stepped into the shower stream and held Paulo in a tight hug.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Paulo smiled against Alvaro’s collarbone. “Me, too.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Alvaro asked. “Did I do something?”

Paulo shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Alvaro. Alvaro guessed he had to accept that. “Okay,” he said softly. “You’ll be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo said.

Alvaro nodded. A part of him just. Just kept thinking back to that day when Paulo told him sometimes he just wanted to die. But that same part of him was afraid to ask Paulo if he thought that way right then, in case it like, triggered something.

So he just held Paulo and he kissed Paulo, he kissed the _fuck_ out of Paulo and Paulo let him. He pressed Paulo against the cold shower wall and felt Paulo shudder but Paulo let him. He and Paulo grinded against each other and Paulo let it happen. He worked the inside of Paulo’s mouth with his tongue and Paulo let him.

But soon Alvaro could tell Paulo was straining – he was straining not only to reach Alvaro because he was taller, but he was also just – just struggling. His kisses became more desperate but more hesitant, more nervous. And more confused.

Alvaro pulled away, holding him by the cheeks. He glanced down between them – Paulo was still limp, even though Alvaro already had a semi. “Do you wanna…” he started, trailing off, knowing Paulo would get him.

Paulo’s gaze shot around, like he was suddenly anxious. He swallowed audibly. “Can we...could – maybe could we kiss a little more?”

Alvaro nodded and smiled. He pressed his lips on Paulo’s again, slowly working them up again. He slid his hands down Paulo’s shoulders and abdomen, to his waist, his hips, then down to cup his cock.

Paulo suddenly recoiled, pushing Alvaro away by the shoulders. He looked shocked and overwhelmed and his eyes darted around Alvaro’s face.

“Hey,” Alvaro said, surprised. “Hey. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t,” Paulo whispered. “Alvi. I’m sorry. Alvi.”

“It’s okay,” Alvaro said softly, wrapping Paulo up in a hug again. “You don’t have to do it for me, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo said again. “I mean, you’re – you’re hard.”

“It’s okay.”

Paulo slumped against him, exhausted. “I just wanna sleep,” he said softly, sadly.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “Okay. Go put on your clothes, yeah? I’ll wash myself.”

“You wanna…” Paulo’s voice trailed off as he made a jerking off movement with his hand. “Um. I’m sorry.”

Alvaro waited for Paulo to dry off, put his clothes on, and brush his teeth, before quickly dealing with his boner under the shower. He stood in the water for a while, but when the euphoria washed away all he was left with was sudden concern for Paulo.

When he got outside, Paulo was curled up under his sheets again, this time peacefully asleep.

A wave of relief washed over Alvaro. He went and sat behind Paulo and just. Just watched Paulo sleep. He curled up behind Paulo, hugging Paulo close to him and closing his eyes. Paulo didn’t budge, which was concerning; Alvaro felt a little silly putting his fingers under Paulo’s nose but was relieved when he found that Paulo was still breathing.

Winnie came scratching at the door so Alvaro had to get out of bed to let her in. Her hair was a little overgrown for her size and she looked a little hungry, so Alvaro gave her another round of food. Perhaps Paulo didn’t even have the energy to get out of bed to feed her.

“How are you?” Alvaro asked as he watched her eat. “You doing okay?”

Winnie didn’t respond, just gobbled up her food and climbed into Alvaro’s lap, standing on her hind legs to hug Alvaro’s shoulders. Alvaro decided to give her a little more meat. She looked like the happiest girl in the universe.

Alvaro brought her into bed with him; she curled up on an extra pillow so Alvaro hugged Paulo again. He was sleeping so soundly that – that Alvaro was half happy and half just so heartbroken at how exhausted Paulo must’ve felt over the last few days.

He tried to go to sleep but he was too well-rested for a nap, so he got up and went outside looking for something to do. Winnie followed him around, which was a pleasant surprise because it meant that she recognised and liked him – Alvaro retrospectively realised it was probably because he had fed her so much earlier – so Alvaro sat down and started teaching her some commands.

A couple hours later she only managed to follow one command – to sit, even though she still got confused and needed Alvaro to give her butt a little nudge so she’d sit down. But she was spoiled with endless mouthfuls of kibble because Alvaro was just like that.

“Do you think your daddy’s okay?” Alvaro asked. Her ears twitched slightly at the word ‘daddy,’ which made Alvaro think that Paulo sometimes talked about Alvaro to Winnie. Or that he referred to himself as ‘daddy’ too often. Which was a little bit disturbing and made Alvaro laugh. “He seems a little sad.”

Winnie gave a little woof. She trotted away, leading Alvaro to the bedroom and sitting down next to the bed like she was telling Alvaro, ‘here, here’s the daddy you were referring to.’

Alvaro laughed. He carried her onto the bed and sat there playing a game on his phone as Paulo and Winnie napped. He kept a hand on Paulo’s shoulder, just. Just in case. And also, Paulo was nice and warm.

Dinnertime crept by, so Alvaro reluctantly got out of bed and found enough ingredients to make a simple lasagna. He popped it in the oven, stopped Winnie from climbing in after it, and set the timer before fetching Winnie back into bed.

He didn’t notice he’d dozed off until the oven gave a loud ding which woke not only him, but also Winnie and Paulo. Alvaro realised he’d been curled around Paulo like a vine, so he moved aside to give Paulo some air.

Paulo turned around to face him, one side of his face holding the red imprint of the pillowcase from having slept on it without moving for about five hours. He gave a tiny smile.

“How are you feeling?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo didn’t verbally respond. He shut his eyes again and sighed.

“I made dinner,” Alvaro added.

“I’m not hungry,” Paulo murmured.

“You have to eat something,” Alvaro said softly. “Please?”

Paulo sighed again. He turned back around so he was facing away from Alvaro.

Alvaro hugged him but had to get up just a while later because Paulo wasn’t responding and it was physically tearing Alvaro apart.

He brought two servings of lasagna along with Winnie’s dinner back into the bedroom. Winnie dug in immediately, tail wagging excitedly, as Alvaro climbed into bed.

“I’ll feed you,” he whispered. “Won’t tell anyone.”

Paulo got up, looking less like he wanted to eat than like he was only doing it so Alvaro would stop bugging him. He opened his mouth each time Alvaro held a spoonful of lasagna up to it, and received a kiss on the cheek after he swallowed. Soon, the smile returned to his face.

“Are you okay?” Alvaro asked, using a tissue to wipe the corners of Paulo’s mouth. “You want some more?”

Paulo shook his head. “You eat yours. It’s cold.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Alvi.”

“It’s just, you’re really quiet, and I just don’t know and I’m worried about you.”

Paulo sighed. “It’s nothing,” he whispered, looking down at his own hands.

“Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“What do you want to do now? I’ll do anything with you.”

“Just eat.”

“Okay, then after that I’ll do anything.”

Alvaro ate as fast as he could without choking. Paulo called Winnie to the bed – and she responded, circling the bed and resting her front paws on the mattress waiting for Paulo to help her up.

“She can howl,” Paulo told Alvaro. “Winnie. Say ‘awoo.’”

Winnie gave a little howl, tilting her head backwards as she did, and then turning back in front to Paulo with a smile. Paulo petted her on the head. “Good girl.”

“I tried to teach her to sit,” Alvaro said.

Paulo smiled. “Yeah, she doesn’t really get that.”

“What do you wanna do?” Alvaro asked once he was done eating. “Take a walk? Shopping? Watch TV? FIFA?”

Paulo shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is there anything you _don’t_ want to do?”

“I don’t want to move.”

So Alvaro put the dirty dishes in the sink and washed Winnie’s bowl and returned to bed with his Paulo. They sat there silently for a really long while, Paulo not looking like he was intending to say anything and Alvaro – well, Alvaro just perplexed at what he was supposed to do. He thought he’d done something wrong. Alvaro legitimately thought he had done something to piss Paulo off.

Until Paulo said, softly, “Maybe just hold me for a while?”

Alvaro did, _gladly_ ; he wrapped an arm around Paulo and felt Paulo sink into his chest, instinctively curling up into a ball. He was warm but not hot, heavy but not uncomfortable. Alvaro ran his fingers through Paulo’s hair; it was sticky from sleep but fresh from their earlier shower. Alvaro gave it a kiss.

And then Paulo started to cry.

Alvaro didn’t notice it at first. He didn’t notice it until Paulo started shaking from how hard he was trying not to sob.

“Hey,” Alvaro said, gently cupping Paulo’s cheeks with his hands and pulling Paulo to face up. “Hey. Paulo. Baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo sobbed.

“No. Paulo. What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered. “Hey. Please tell me why you’re crying.”

“I just – just feel like. I want my whole life to change. You know? I just. I want to stop...stop being me.”

“Why?” Alvaro asked. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“I’m not.”

“I love you,” Alvaro said softly, stroking Paulo’s hair hoping he would stop crying. “And your mom loves you, and your dad, and your brothers, your cousins, your friends.”

“But I don’t love me. How could you all love me when I don’t even love me?” Paulo sobbed. “I just wish that I wasn’t me.”

“Don’t say that, Pau, please.”

“You ever think that maybe if you hadn’t done one thing, your entire life would’ve been different?”

“Yeah.”

Paulo went completely silent.

Alvaro knew Paulo had always struggled during summertime. It was like some kind of syndrome. It was probably because the final few months Paulo got to spend with his dad were the months of summer when he was fifteen. And every summer that had come after that – well, they had all been shit.

But as much as that was a fact, Paulo had never gotten to this extent. He had never been so helpless that he couldn’t even get out of bed or bathe himself or _eat._

It suddenly hit Alvaro that the one thing Paulo was referring to that if he hadn’t done, his life would be completely different – it was proposing to Alvaro.

It was that, or it was accepting the offer for the exchange to Madrid in 2009.

“Do you wish you’d never met me?” Paulo asked, which affirmed Alvaro’s thought that it was the latter.

“Never,” Alvaro said. “Promise.”

A short but tense silence.

“Do you wish you’d never met me?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo didn’t answer. He just grabbed two fistfuls of Alvaro’s shirt and held on tight, curling up more against Alvaro.

“I love you,” he whispered after the longest, most painful silence Alvaro had ever had to sit through.

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

Paulo closed his eyes and Alvaro felt the little pelts of his tears on the front of his shirt. “Alvi,” he said helplessly.

Alvaro hugged Paulo closer to him. “Sorry. I love you, too.”

“Would you change anything about me?”

“Just one thing.”

“What?”

“I’d make you less sad.”

Paulo tilted his head up and, despite the tear streaks running down his cheeks, smiled at Alvaro. “Just that?”

Alvaro nodded. “Nothing else.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” Alvaro leaned over and pressed his lips on Paulo’s soft ones. “Why are you sad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Remember the good things, ‘kay?” Alvaro said. He pointed at Paulo’s gold Champions League medal hanging off the corner of the door of his closet. “Like that.”

Paulo smiled again, this time wryly. “Sometimes...sometimes I feel like just ‘cause one happy thing happened to me, it doesn’t make everything else okay. You know?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. “But will you try?”

Paulo nodded. He pushed his head under Alvaro’s chin and went quiet.

“You wanna pick your clothes out and I’ll pack them for you?” Alvaro asked. He gently set Paulo’s head down on a pillow and stood up to open Paulo’s closet. “How many shirts do you want?”

“Alvi.”

“Maybe bring a couple more in case we do some of Franco’s weird extra activities.”

“Alvaro.”

“But if you don’t wanna do them then I’ll tell him for you.”

“Alvaro, please.”

Then Alvaro realised that Paulo was trying to tell him something, so he turned back around and sat down on the edge of the bed, near Winnie. “What is it?”

“I don’t – I don’t think I can go to Madrid with you.”

“Why not?” Alvaro asked, then realised Paulo probably couldn’t answer him. “I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to go.”

Paulo shook his head. “Why don’t you just go ahead?”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I can’t get out of bed. I can’t eat, I can’t shower, I can’t even feed Winnie. I don’t know when I can go to Madrid with you.”

“It’s okay. My parents will be fine even if we don’t go.”

“I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not,” Alvaro reached over and squeezed Paulo’s hand. “Okay? Don’t you ever say that.”

“You sure?” Paulo asked, voice quivering. His eyes shimmered with new tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks. “Don’t say that just ‘cause you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Do you wanna get up? Maybe...maybe walk around a little bit.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You just wanna lie down?”

Paulo nodded.

“Do you want me to lie with you?”

Paulo shook his head. “Could I be alone for a while?”

Alvaro smiled. “Of course,” he said. He picked Winnie up and held her towards Paulo. “How about her?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered, taking her and hugging her tightly. “Thanks.”

Alvaro gave him a lingering kiss on his temple, told him he loved him more than anything in the world, then shut the door softly behind him as he stepped into the hall.

He stood next to it for a while, just. Just wondering what the hell he could _do_ to help Paulo. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening to Paulo, if he was going through something because of circumstance or because of something in his head.

He wasn’t sure if Paulo wanted any help.

He spent the rest of the day cleaning up Paulo’s house and trying to rid it of the musty smell that had accumulated over the past week or so. He opened the windows wide, hoping the fresh air would help Paulo. Eventually, you know, when he got out of bed. He washed the dishes, did Paulo’s laundry, and packed the suitcase in the hall neatly in case Paulo changed his mind and wanted to go to Madrid.

At eleven pm he peeked in at Paulo – he was still sleeping in the same position Alvaro had left him in, but Winnie was now on the other side of the bed, having wriggled free of Paulo’s grasp. She ran up to Alvaro when she saw him, but followed him back inside when he went to say good night to an unresponsive Paulo. She followed him back outside to the living room.

“I guess it’s just the two of us out here tonight, huh?” Alvaro said, placing one of the sofa cushions on the ground for Winnie to rest her head on. He turned on the TV. “What do you wanna watch?”

She seemed to take a liking to National Geographic – just like Paulo – so Alvaro settled on that channel. He lied down on the couch and sighed.

It took him some time, but he eventually fell asleep trying to think of ways he could save the love of his life.

\------

Alvaro stayed in Turin for the next week, hovering around Paulo, making sure he had everything he needed but at the same time trying not to get too far up into Paulo’s space, like he understood that Paulo just needed time alone yet could not bear to leave Paulo completely alone.

To Paulo’s credit, he did get out of bed. He took a shower by himself and went to the kitchen to watch Alvaro cook yet another meal for him. Another day, he went outside to watch Alvaro play FIFA. And another day, he walked with Alvaro as he brought Winnie to the park. Alvaro even brought a ball for them to kick around, but Paulo just wanted to sit down.

Sure, it took Paulo all the strength he had left in him to even put his feet on the ground. But if he had to take a few painful steps to go outside and see Alvaro smiling at him, then it was all worth it.

Paulo felt fucking miserable. He wasn’t sure _why_. He didn’t have a fever or a cold. He just felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and it only got heavier. Going outside didn’t help. Watching TV didn’t help. Seeing Alvaro’s face helped a little, but not enough.

On Saturday Alvaro went out in the morning and came back with lunch, which he ate in bed with Paulo. Paulo had built a nice cozy home for himself in his sheets. Sure, it smelled gross and musty but Paulo didn’t ever want to get out of it. He admired Alvaro for sitting through all that _stench_.

Paulo began to realise how _tired_ Alvaro seemed to be of it all. He looked mildly irritated all the time. He sighed a lot. He looked bored that he had to spend hours and hours alone waiting for Paulo to get his shit together but never seeing any improvement. He looked like he felt obligated to do this, to stick by Paulo, instead of going to Madrid and then partying it away in Ibiza or whatever. Or in Japan, with Isco and Franco.

God, Japan. How was Paulo ever going to haul his ass all the way to _Japan_?

He had just snuggled under the covers for his usual post-lunch nap when Alvaro knocked softly on the door. “Hey,” he said. “I got you something when I was out.”

Paulo twisted to see it – it was a Lego fire station set, a new one that Paulo hadn’t gotten yet.

“Thank you,” he said, before turning back around and shutting his eyes, suddenly lethargic.

“You don’t wanna build it now?” Alvaro asked. Paulo didn’t blame him. Alvaro frequently struggled to pry Paulo and his Legos apart. Especially a _brand new set_.

“Don’t feel like it,” Paulo mumbled.

“Paulo, what’s wrong?” Alvaro asked. Paulo felt him move closer on the bed. “You never wanna do anything anymore.”

He sounded. He sounded sad. And disappointed. Paulo sat up, an action which sapped all the remaining strength out of his body. He sat facing away from Alvaro, his feet planted on the cold floor.

“Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk about something.”

“What is it?”

The pain in Paulo’s chest that came with the words he said next far outweighed any sort of pain that had come with any action Paulo had done in the last ten days.

“I think you need to leave.”

A single beat of nervous silence.

“Why?” Alvaro asked.

“All you’re doing every day is sitting here and watching me do nothing, and it’s _summer,_ Alvi, for fuck’s sake. You don’t deserve this. You should be at home, visiting your parents, and going on holiday. Not here taking care of me.”

“But I want to take care of you,” Alvaro said softly. “Paulo. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong, okay?” Paulo snapped, his voice reaching decibels hundreds of times of those he’d been able to muster for weeks past. “I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t know, and I can’t tell you, so stop bugging me and just leave, okay?”

Another beat of silence.

“You think I’m bugging you?” Alvaro asked patiently. Didn’t yell. Didn’t sound angry.

“Go away, Alvaro.”

“Paulo. Please. Just talk to me.”

“I can’t talk to you,” Paulo sobbed, head in his hands. “I don’t want to. I can’t. I just want to be alone, I want to just sleep and sleep and maybe I’ll never wake up and everyone will be happier.”

“Paulo –”

“And I know you’re sick of me, Alvaro, you’re sick of me and you shouldn’t have to sit around like that just because there’s something wrong with me. I don’t need your pity or your help and I don’t need – you!”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again, managing to continue this time while Paulo stopped to catch his breath. “I’m not doing this out of pity. I’m doing this because I love you and I want to see you happy again.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again, and I don’t think you should love me because there’s no reason for you to because I’m a piece of shit and no one should ever love me.”

Alvaro crawled closer to Paulo and wrapped his arms and legs around Paulo from behind. “Don’t say that about yourself,” he whispered, trying to stop Paulo from shaking as he cried. “Okay? I love you. I will always love you, no matter what you think about yourself. You have to stop bottling things up. Please. Please talk to me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I don’t know what to fucking say!” Paulo yelled so loudly he was surprised by himself. “I don’t know! I just need you to go away, I need some space and I know you do, too.”

“Pau –”

“Just go, okay? Go to Madrid, or to Japan, or wherever the fuck, I don’t know and – Alvi. Just go and live your life. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t think we should be together anymore.”

Alvaro sat there, arms like lead around Paulo, body moving with Paulo’s as he panted.

“Are we breaking up?” he whispered.

“I can’t be with you, Alvi,” Paulo sobbed. “Look at me. I’m a fucking mess. I’m a big fucking mess.”

“But you’re gonna be better, Pau, I know you are.”

“I’m not. I’m never going to be.”

“You are.”

“I have to deal with it myself,” Paulo said. “Okay? I need to be by myself for a while. And you. You need to go far, far away and forget about me, just forget about me, okay?”

“Paulo Dybala, you’re a fool if you ever think I can forget about you.”

“I hate that I’m like this. I’m a fucking loser.”

“You are not.”

“I am and I know it. I have never been okay, Alvi. I have never been okay for one day in my life and it’s taken me this long to admit it. I’m weak and a coward and I will never get anything right in my life.”

“Is this because I rejected your proposal?” Alvaro finally asked.

“No,” Paulo said, although. Although he had to say maybe that was what had triggered this avalanche of unknown sources.

Alvaro sighed. “Pau, I love you. I love you so fucking much. Nothing you say or do is going to change that.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Paulo whispered.

“You do,” Alvaro said. “And it’s not you who gets to decide that, anyway.”

“Alvi, please, please just go. I need space. I just want to be alone.”

A long period of quiet that was somewhat welcome after all their quickfire fighting.

“Are we breaking up?” Alvaro asked again, this time in a shaky whisper.

Paulo shut his eyes, the tears that had been in them plopping on Alvaro’s wrist. He breathed the single word together with what felt like the very last ounce of air in his lungs.

“Yes.”

Alvaro’s arms went slack around Paulo. He unwrapped himself, leaving Paulo unexpectedly cold.

He gently held Paulo’s head in his hands, turning Paulo around. The kiss he gave Paulo was soft and slow yet desperate at the same time, like he thought this was his last chance to salvage this situation. But it wasn’t going to work. Paulo knew it wasn’t going to work. Not because he didn’t love Alvaro anymore – hell, Paulo knew he would love Alvaro every single day for the rest of his life – but because Paulo simply had to be alone. He didn’t have a reason for it. He couldn’t explain why he felt what he felt. But Paulo just needed to be alone so he could rot away in peace and Alvaro wouldn’t have to witness it.

Alvaro’s gaze was tortured as he pulled away. It lingered on Paulo’s face, taking in every inch of it, like he just wanted to remember it. His hand combed through Paulo’s matted hair.

“I will always love you,” he whispered.

He turned away before Paulo could see the first tears fall from his eyes, but his little gasp and shudder gave him away. He got out of bed, straightened his clothes, and walked slowly to the door.

“Alvaro,” Paulo called.

Alvaro stopped walking. There was a brief pause before he said, “Yeah?” with a hopeful tone to his voice, like he thought Paulo was going to change his mind.

“Could you please take Winnie and all her things?”

Alvaro swallowed audibly. Another pause before he asked, “Do you want to say goodbye?”

“No,” Paulo whispered, willing his shoulders not to shudder with the sob he involuntarily gave.

There was almost ten minutes of complete silence as Alvaro stood by the door, staring at Paulo’s back.

“Goodbye, Paulo,” he whispered.

He waited a while for Paulo to respond, but when Paulo just sat there trying to control his sobs, he shut the door softly.

Paulo was alone.

He heard Alvaro moving around the house for a while, probably collecting Winnie’s things. Probably some of his own things too, those that weren’t trapped in Paulo’s closet.

Forty-five minutes later, the front door clicked shut.

Paulo closed his eyes. They were heavy with the weight of knowing that after all these years, after twelve years of ups and downs, he would probably never see the love of his life again.

“Goodbye, Alvi.”

\------

Alvaro didn't realise how tired he was until he stepped into the comfort of his Madrid family home.

He dumped his bag and the duffel of Winnie’s things next to the door. His mom came out to greet him, but Alvaro dismissed her with a curt ‘I don't want to talk,’ and stormed upstairs into his room.

It wasn’t until he was crying hot, angry tears into his pillow that he realised that was exactly what he was – mad at Paulo.

He didn’t _want_ to be. He had no right to be. Paulo was clearly going through something and all Alvaro wanted was to be there for him but he _couldn’t be_ , Paulo wouldn’t _let him_ and Alvaro couldn’t figure out what in the world he could _do_. He loved Paulo so fucking much and he was just so furious that he didn’t seem to be allowed to.

But he knew being angry at Paulo wouldn’t change a thing. He knew that Paulo probably didn’t mean any of those things he’d said. Sure, Paulo was cool-headed most of the time, but Alvaro knew he had a temper when things came down to it.

Strangely, Alvaro didn’t feel sad. Angry, but not sad. Even though it was a six-year – well, twelve-year if you counted from the very beginning – relationship that had just disappeared in a puff of smoke. Because Alvaro knew, deep down in the part of him that was mushy and romantic and believed in magic – that it wasn’t over.

Sure, Alvaro wasn’t going to be around to help Paulo out of the dump he was in. But he hadn’t a sliver of doubt that Paulo would be able to get out of it himself. And once he did, once he allowed Alvaro back in his life again, Alvaro was going to get his Paulo back. Because Paulo and Alvaro were soulmates. Their bodies were made of atoms from the same star. Alvaro had never once in his life ceased to believe that.

Unfortunately for Alvaro, Marta was back for summer after spending most of her time travelling the world or whatever. She barged into Alvaro’s room without knocking, cradling Winnie in her arms. “Who’s this cutie scratching at your door?” she asked.

“Winnie,” Alvaro mumbled into his pillow.

“Where’d she come from?”

“Just leave her here and go away.”

“Tell me where you got her from,” she said, nosy as ever, sitting on Alvaro’s bed. “Did Paulo get her for you? Where is he, anyway? _Paulito!_ ”

“He’s not here,” Alvaro said.

“He didn’t come?” Marta asked sadly. “Why not?”

“We broke up.”

The longest pause from Marta that Alvaro had ever experienced in any conversation with her.

“You broke up?” she asked in a whisper. “Why?”

“Just leave me alone, okay?” Alvaro sobbed.

Alvaro heard the soft ‘pat-pat’ of Winnie’s paws against the floor as Marta put her down. She slid closer to Alvaro so she was leaning on Alvaro’s back.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing. He got mad at me and asked me to leave so I left.”

“He got mad at you? Why?”

“No reason.”

“He just got mad at you?”

“Look, just forget it, okay? He doesn’t want me around so I’m not going to be around.”

“He can’t be mad at you for no reason!”

“He’s just – look, just – forget it. Okay? Just go away.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” Marta said. She disappeared for a while and reappeared with her phone. “I’m calling him and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Don’t do that,” Alvaro warned.

“Why not? He’s being stupid and stubborn and no one treats my little brother like that. Remember the last time he made you come home all sad and lie in bed and miss a ton of training sessions? ‘Cause I do, and I remember I called him and yelled at him about it and it made everything okay, so this time it’s not going to be any different, okay?”

“Just don’t fucking call him!” Alvaro yelled, whirling up onto his knees and clawing at Marta’s hands.

“I will unless you give me a legitimate reason not to!”

Alvaro sat back on his feet with a sigh. In all honesty he just wanted to lie down and cry and cry because he was so _worried_ about Paulo and this was all nothing but a half-formed thought in his mind but he went ahead and said it anyway.

“I think he’s depressed.”

“Depressed?” Marta repeated. “You mean depressed like...really sad?”

“No, I think he’s _depressed_.”

Marta’s light eyes widened, staring worriedly at Alvaro. “Why do you think he’s depressed?” she whispered, like it was a secret.

“He’s pushing everyone away,” Alvaro started, although it tore him apart. “He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t get out of bed or shower and he smells like a pile of crap. He doesn’t have the energy to even stand up. Everything seems so difficult to him. He used to love going to the park to kick a ball, you know? He didn’t wanna do that anymore. He didn’t even wanna play with Legos.”

Marta’s gaze faltered. “Oh, no,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Alvaro wiped his cheeks. “And I just. He thinks I’m tired of taking care of him every day. But I swear, Marta, I swear that there’s nothing more I want than to sit there with him every single day. You know he told me that sometimes he just feels like he wants to die? He _feels like he wants to die_. Marta. He can’t die. He can’t feel that way. I’m not going to allow it.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Marta whispered as Alvaro collapsed into her arms. “Yeah. We’re not gonna allow it.”

“I love him so much,” Alvaro sobbed. “I’m so mad at him but I love him so fucking much.”

“Why do you think he’s depressed?” Marta asked.

Alvaro had thought about it thoroughly on the flight to Madrid.

“I think he’s always been, you know?” he whispered. “He’s always been. And I hate myself for not noticing. He’s always told me he hates himself and that sometimes he wished that he wasn’t him. He has always thought that he wasn’t good enough, that he’ll never be good enough. He’s always thought that no one loved him. And he’s always tried to close himself off. I mean, isn’t that a sign? Aren’t all those signs? He kept telling me. It was right in front of me. But I didn’t even _notice_. I’ve known him twelve years, Marta. What kind of boyfriend does that make me? What kind of _friend_?”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“Who else can I blame? It was right in front of me all this time. Paulo has never been truly happy and he’s always been so consumed by the devil in his head telling him he’s never going to be enough for this world and what have I done for him?”

“You’ve loved him,” Marta said. “I’m sure that helped.”

“Not enough.”

“Has it ever been this bad?”

“No,” Alvaro whispered. Sure, sometimes Paulo just wanted to stay in bed the entire day. But he had never been this tired or stagnant and he always bounced back in a matter of two or three days. _And_ he never skipped his showers. “He’s never been like that.”

“Do you think something happened?” Marta asked. “Like, something...you know, triggered him. This time.”

And then it came to Alvaro, almost knocking his breath out of him.

“Oh, my God,” he breathed, suddenly shaking. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Marta asked. She shrugged her shoulders as Alvaro just pulled away and sat there staring at her. “What?”

“I’m – he –“ Alvaro sputtered. “He – Winnie.”

“What?” Marta asked again.

“He proposed to me and I said no,” Alvaro said so quickly he wasn’t sure if the words sounded separate.

Marta blinked at him. “Oh, Alvaro.”

“I’m just not ready. I’m not ready. But I made him like this. Fuck. I should’ve said yes. Fuck, I made him like this, I made Paulo depressed.”

“You did not make Paulo depressed.”

“I did. I made him depressed.”

“Why did you say no?”

“I’m not ready!” Alvaro said. “I’m not ready. I was gonna propose to him, like, later this year. I know I was gonna. Because I know I’d be ready then. But then he went and proposed and I just couldn’t say yes and now he’s like this because of me!”

“Okay, okay,” Marta said gently. “Okay. You’re having a panic attack. Just stop talking and breathe.”

“Paulo wants to die and it’s because of me,” Alvaro sobbed.

“Don’t say that. If he really does have depression then it’s not because of you.”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro whispered. “I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you lie down and I’ll go get you something to eat and drink?” Marta asked, gently slipping Alvaro out of her arms and tucking the sheets around him. “Yeah? Just give me like, three minutes.”

Alvaro pulled the covers higher over him and curled up on his side, sobbing. _He made Paulo like this_. He was responsible for everything. And now he couldn’t even be there to make things right again.

In typical Alvaro style, he actually fell asleep in the five or so minutes Marta was gone. He didn’t remember much of it, didn’t remember even actually falling asleep, only that he woke up suddenly in a sweat with his fists clenched around the bedsheets and yelling at the top of his lungs, “I left him alone!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Marta muttered by the door, the toast and grape juice almost flying out of her hands. “God, what the fuck?”

“I left him alone. I left Paulo alone.”

“Well, he asked you to leave.”

“But I _shouldn’t have_.”

“I think you being around is just going to stress him out even further. Maybe you just need to give him some time to heal.”

“I need to call someone. Someone needs to be with him.”

So Alvaro sat there for two hours calling and texting everyone he knew in Turin while Marta desperately tried to shove food and drink down his throat. Alas, everyone was already on vacation and no one was around to steal Paulo’s spare key from under his turtle figurine and occasionally sneak inside to see if he was doing okay.

Alvaro even resorted to calling Paulo’s brothers, trying to be vague about the whole situation so they wouldn’t be worried, but they couldn’t get away long enough to be in Italy.

Isco and Franco were already in Argentina visiting Franco’s family.

“No luck?” Marta asked.

“Everyone’s away on holiday.”

“You know,” Marta said. “Maybe it’s better like this. Maybe he just needs to be alone.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Maybe anyone at all being there is just gonna disturb him.”

“I’m just – I’m so worried about him. What if he does…what if he does something stupid. You know?”

“He won’t,” Marta whispered.

“How do you know?” Alvaro sobbed.

“You’re thinking too much,” Marta said kindly, standing up with the plate and glass. “You just have to go to sleep, and tomorrow you’ll feel much better and see much clearer. Okay?”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

“He’s gonna be okay. You’re both gonna be okay.”

“Okay.”

“Night, dorkface.”

Alvaro smiled. “Night, butthead,” he said as the door closed.

Alvaro tried to go to sleep again but couldn’t, his mind running a race filled with miles and miles of thoughts of Paulo. What was he doing? Was he asleep? Did he eat anything? Did he get up to shower? Did he have strength to walk?

He took out his phone and dialled Paulo’s number by heart. It took him seven minutes to muster enough courage to press call.

All he got was Paulo’s voicemail.

“Hey, you,” he whispered, wiping his tears on the back of his hand. “Hi. I love you so much.”

The silence seemed to echo back at Alvaro. He longed, how Alvaro _longed_ to hear Paulo breathing back at him through that silence, the sound of it having lulled Alvaro to sleep so many times before.

But on that night, there was only dull, looming silence.

He got out of bed and shuffled next door to the extra room with the phone still pressed foolishly against his ear. He was relieved to see that his parents had done nothing at all to Paulo’s old room – every single thing was in its rightful place, from the extra mattress tucked under the bed to the box of buttons that sat on the work table because the last time Paulo had been here, he’d been obsessed with buttons. It seemed a little silly to keep this room as it was when it could’ve easily been converted into a functioning guest room, but Alvaro never wanted to mention that to his parents.

Alvaro curled up on Paulo’s old bed. It smelled like him a little bit, though Alvaro suspected it might’ve been his imagination. This room felt a twinge more familiar than Alvaro’s own room. After all, so many things had happened in here.

Alvaro’s eye caught the photo of him and Paulo that was perched strategically on the windowsill right next to the bed so it was the first thing anyone who slept on that bed would see when they woke up. It made him smile.

“Hang in there, okay?” he continued softly into the phone. “You’re going to be okay.”

\------

Alvaro did not feel even one ounce better the next morning.

Or the morning after that. Or the many mornings that followed.

He would’ve felt a little guilty about moping in bed all day, because after all it was summer and Alvaro was already more than a week late to his parents’ place _and_ he’d been rude to his mom the first thing. But Alvaro simply had no energy.

The sadness that Alvaro had been expecting to hit him hadn’t yet come. He still just felt so overwhelmingly worried about his Paulo. He didn’t remember a moment ever passing where he hadn’t been thinking about whether Paulo had gotten out of bed to get something to eat. If he had drunk some water. If he had clean clothes to wear. If he’d gone outside for some fresh air.

He lost count of how many times he had Paulo’s name on his phone, thumb hovering over the call button. For all of the three times he actually mustered enough courage to press it, he went directly to Paulo’s voicemail.

“How you feeling?” Marta asked on Saturday morning, exactly one week after Paulo had so unceremoniously cut Alvaro off, when Alvaro finally got his ass out of bed early enough for breakfast. He got out Winnie’s bowls and got her some food and milk, which she attended to eagerly.

“I made your favourite,” Alvaro’s mom said. “Chocolate chip pancakes and scrambled eggs.”

“Can’t believe we share the same genes,” Marta muttered.

Alvaro sighed. “I’m okay.”

“Haven’t heard from Paulo?” Alvaro’s dad asked.

Alvaro shook his head.

“He’ll come around,” mom said.

“I don’t think it’s something you come around of,” Alvaro said softly. Besides, it wasn’t so much of Paulo coming around that Alvaro was moping about. It was Paulo, in general.

Breakfast was quiet, like no one knew what to say. Alvaro finished half his pancakes and eggs.

After breakfast, Alvaro called Paulo again. There was ringing, but no answer.

Alvaro took it as a sign that Paulo was getting better.

Marta appeared at Alvaro’s door, standing there for a while before deciding to step inside. She’d been treading softly around Alvaro, like she didn’t really dare to come too close but yet – she was bored. Alvaro didn’t blame her. They hung out a lot with Marta during summer. Paulo, Alvaro, and Marta, taking Madrid by storm. This year was a stark contrast.

“You wanna,” Marta shrugged. “Do something? Take your mind off things.”

“I don’t know,” Alvaro said softly. He didn’t think anything would take his mind off this. “Do you think Paulo’s doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. Alvaro knew she was only saying it so Alvaro wouldn’t freak out.

Alvaro retrieved the set of Battleship from his bedside and put it between them. He guessed maybe he could get through a few rounds of that. Marta sat across from him at the foot of the bed; the bed was low so Winnie managed to jump onto it, ruining Alvaro’s battleship setup a couple of times.

“Can I ask you something?” Marta asked when Winnie toppled the entire set so they had to restart. She took Winnie and thrust her in Alvaro’s arms.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said, booping Winnie's nose and trying not to let her reach his palm with her tongue. It was more so he didn't have to make eye contact with Marta, but Winnie seemed to be having fun, so.

“What do you think now?” Marta asked. “About Paulo?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still think of him as your boyfriend?”

Alvaro shrugged. “A little bit.”

“That’s not good, you know?”

“I know.”

“Why don’t you try being concerned about him as a friend?” she suggested. “It’ll probably break your heart less.”

“We have never been friends,” Alvaro said softly, his voice as thick as the lump blocking his throat. “Paulo and I have always been more than that.”

“Even when you met?”

Alvaro nodded. “Even when we met,” he whispered. “How can I go back to being friends with someone whom I’ve never been friends with? Someone I’ve loved every single day for the last twelve years?”

Marta pushed the Battleship set aside and squeezed next to Alvaro, wrapping him up like a ball of laundry he so easily folded into. “You wanna cry about your breakup now?” she asked softly. “You’ve just been worried about Paulo’s health all this time. I don’t think you’ve had time to wallow yet.”

“I just don’t think I could ever stop loving him,” Alvaro sobbed.

“Do you think maybe you should try?”

“No,” Alvaro whispered. “I know this is so stupid. But I’ve always believed Paulo and I would be forever. Our forever is the only forever I believe in.”

Marta gave a little loving chuckle. “You’ve never been dumped, have you?”

“What?”

“You’ve always done the dumping. Never been dumped.”

That wasn’t true. Alvaro got dumped by Mia.

Although it wasn’t technically getting dumped _by_ Mia as it was just...a very messy breakup in which they both did the dumping.

“But either way, what I wanna tell you is,” Marta continued. “It’s okay to feel like it’s the end of the world. It’s okay to feel like life’s empty and that you can’t go on without him. It’s okay to cry and eat lots of ice cream. Doesn’t make you weak. Okay?”

Alvaro sniffled. “He’s the most beautiful and the strongest and I hate that he doesn’t see that about himself.”

“You have to try to move on.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, you have to at least try to be strong for him.”

Alvaro sighed. “Thank you, Marta.”

“Yeah,” Marta smiled. “He’s my little brother, too.”

They managed to play a few more rounds of Battleship before their parents came upstairs and asked if they wanted to go out for lunch. They brought Winnie out and she was overjoyed again, which honestly was everything Alvaro needed at that point.

Alvaro’s parents seemed a little quiet, only talking among themselves instead of to Alvaro. When Alvaro mentioned that to Marta she told him they probably hadn’t been expecting Paulo and Alvaro to ever break up.

Which, well. _Alvaro_ had never expected Paulo and him to ever break up, either, so he understood his parents.

They eventually stopped at an ice cream place and got Alvaro the _biggest_ waffle cone, so Alvaro knew they were okay. Marta, however, got a little jealous and whiny so Alvaro had to share it with her.

The fresh air and ice cream did wonders for Alvaro, he had to admit. In the evening after dinner he got back into bed feeling just adequately less sad.

He looked up plane tickets to Turin and, as if his fingers had a mind of their own, booked an evening flight for the next day. He didn’t tell anyone, not even Marta, because he knew they would try to stop him. And he wasn’t going to let them stop him. He wanted to see his Paulo. Whenever they fought, as rare as it had been, they always made up within a week. Exactly a week had passed and there was no word from Paulo. And God, even if it killed Alvaro, he knew he had to try to make this right.

Alvaro was only able to fall asleep when Winnie tucked her little snout under Alvaro’s chin, because it reminded Alvaro of Paulo.

\------

There was this ominous feeling sort of hanging in the air around Alvaro when he reached Paulo’s front door.

It wasn’t so much the musty, uncleaned smell that blasted at Alvaro’s face and caused his eyes to tear with both sensitivity and familiarity, or the sight of the avalanche of cups and glasses next to the sink paired with the absence of plates that meant Paulo had only been surviving on a liquid diet. It wasn’t so much the messy couch or the dirty clothes strewn on the floor.

It was the fact that Paulo was nowhere to be found.

The wave of panic that so immediately hit Alvaro was blinding. He looked through the entire house again, all the rooms and bedrooms, even though it was stupid because he did it four times and Paulo didn’t magically appear any of those times.

He looked for any note Paulo might’ve left, only to realise he wouldn’t have left a note because _no one was around to read it_.

He went into Paulo’s bedroom again, just. Just to be sure that Paulo really wasn’t in bed. He sat down and put a palm on the imprint of Paulo that had gotten much more obvious since Alvaro had left. It was cold.

He walked around the house again, looking for a sign, _any sign_ that Paulo might’ve left.

He found nothing. Even the suitcase that Alvaro had packed for him more than a week ago was still sitting next to the TV.

He thought of calling someone but he didn’t know _who_ to call.

So he got out. Alvaro got up and he went outside and he walked and walked and he didn’t even _know_ where he was going, just hitting Paulo’s favourite spots over and over again hoping that somehow he would be there, somehow Alvaro had missed him the first time. He had to will himself not to look up, not to look at the top of buildings like he was so tempted to because Paulo wouldn’t. Paulo _couldn’t._

If Turin hadn’t been bittersweet for Alvaro before, he knew it was soon going to be – it was soon going to be the stuff of Alvaro’s nightmares if he didn’t find Paulo roaming its streets. And on that night – on that night was the very first time Alvaro had ever truly thought that he would never see his Paulo again.


	7. What's Gonna Be Left Of The World If You're Not In It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU START, IT'S VERY VERY IMPORTANT:**  
>  The last part of this chapter contains graphic scenes and descriptions which may be disturbing for you to read. PLEASE do not feel like you have to continue reading if you feel uncomfortable. I'll totally understand.  
> If you are triggered by any of the descriptions or prose, PLEASE PLEASE talk to someone. You can talk to me here or on [tumblr](http://serhigomez.tumblr.com), and I could try to help. But please talk to someone you can trust and who is close to you, or call a hotline ([x](http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html) [x](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)). I am terribly sorry in advance if I make you feel uncomfortable in this chapter. 
> 
> Remember that you are loved and you are strong, and there is always someone who will be there for you, even if it is a stranger like me, sitting in front of a keyboard. I love you all!
> 
> Title is from Good Grief by Bastille.

Isco and Franco were at the airport in Buenos Aires when they got the call.

“Have you seen Paulo?” Alvaro asked frantically.

“Have we seen –” Isco furrowed his brow. “No?”

“I lost Paulo.”

“You _lost_ him?” Isco repeated. “Like, at the mall?”

“No!”

“Where are you, anyway?”

“Turin. Where are you?”

“You’re in _Turin_?” Isco asked. He turned to Franco, who looked equally confused. “He’s in Turin. Alvaro. You’re supposed to be here. Our flight leaves in an hour. Japan, remember?”

“Oh fuck, I didn’t tell you,” Alvaro sighed. “We’re not going to Japan.”

“Why not?” Isco demanded.

A deep, deep breath from Alvaro.

“We broke up.”

“You _what_?”

“We broke up. Okay? Me and Paulo. So. I gotta find him. Okay? Enjoy Japan.”

“No, Alvaro,” Isco said before Alvaro could hang up the phone. “Tell us what happened.”

“I just,” Alvaro said, and he sounded out of breath and like he was about to cry. “I can’t right now. I have to find Paulo.”

“You’re in Turin and you know we’re in Buenos Aires and you call _us_ to see where Paulo is?”

Alvaro sighed. “Look, I can’t talk, okay? I have to find him.”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Like a week ago. When he asked me to leave.”

“And when exactly did he go missing?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen him for a week.”

Isco had no response to that except some exasperated sputtering, so Franco took the phone from him. He’d probably overheard everything. Not just because he had good ears, but also because Alvaro was speaking, like, really loudly.

“Where have you looked?” he asked Alvaro, turning the speakerphone on so Isco could hear.

“Everywhere,” Alvaro said, sobbing. “I’ve looked everywhere, and it’s like, midnight here, and I can’t find him. And I’ve called everyone but no one knows where he is. And it’s so late and I’m so worried that something’s happened to him.”

“Maybe he’s gone home. Have you checked his place? Maybe while you’ve been running about he’s already gone home.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. “Okay, I’ll go home.”

“Let us know, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

“Stop staring at me,” Franco said to Isco as he hung up the phone. “It’s creepy.”

“You’re so nice,” Isco cooed.

“They’re my friends.”

“Still so nice.”

“Well,” Franco gripped Isco’s nose in his fingers and pinched it hard. “You don’t hate it.”

“I don’t.”

Fifteen minutes later the text came from Alvaro. _He’s not at home_.

“Where do you think he is?” Isco asked.

“I don’t know. We need the whole story.”

So Isco called Alvaro and made him tell the whole story.

“I don’t know, he’s been down with something and he hadn’t gotten out of bed for more than a week and he just didn’t want to eat or talk or do anything. Last Saturday I asked him why he never wanted to do anything anymore and he just snapped and went on this rampage about how he was such a shitty person and a loser, and he wished he wasn’t the person he was. I’d been sitting around taking care of him but he said he was just being a burden to me and I should leave because I deserve better. I don’t think he’d even been out of bed for more than three hours, total, in the whole week I was there. He doesn’t eat, he just sleeps and sleeps and I don’t think it’s good for him. Anyway, he asked me to leave so I did, but yesterday I bought a ticket back here on impulse and he wasn’t here when I came today so I don’t know when he left or where he is. And – and how did he even get up? He has no strength. He hasn’t _eaten_. What if he’s on the ground somewhere? Where did he go? What if he’s hurt?”

So Isco and Franco got most of that even though it was just angry, sad babbling. It was actually pretty heartbreaking, how crushed Alvaro was. And Isco had noticed something off about Paulo when they’d all been together in Turin; he was so lethargic and moody, and even though he smiled when he was expected to, it didn’t seem genuine enough to be anything more than an obligatory stretch of the lips.

It scared Isco how sometimes everything seemed to be fine on the surface, but one could never know what was really happening in someone’s mind.

“I think he’s depressed,” Alvaro whispered. “I think he has depression.”

“Really?” Isco asked.

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone, ‘cause I’m just saying it, it might not be true.”

“Okay.”

“What if he’s –” Alvaro’s voice caught in his throat. “What if he’s done something – you know? Something stupid. God, I shouldn’t have left him alone. I shouldn’t have left.”

“He wouldn’t,” Isco said softly. “No.”

“Have you tried calling his brothers?” Franco asked.

“No,” Alvaro said, pausing to sniffle. “Should I?”

“Use Paulo’s landline,” Franco suggested. “We’ll wait here.”

“But your flight –”

“Doesn’t matter,” Isco interrupted, knowing Franco wouldn’t have suggested it if he wasn’t putting Paulo as priority over their holiday. “We’ll just get another flight.”

So they sat there in transit waiting for Alvaro to call Mariano; they waited until Alvaro’s excited yells of ‘oh my God, he’s there,’ and Isco turned to Franco and Franco was smiling this relieved smile and Isco couldn’t help but imagine the pain he would be feeling if he had been in Alvaro’s shoes.

“He’s there,” Alvaro said, voice louder as he picked up the phone again.

“Where’s there?” Isco asked.

“There. In Buenos Aires,” Alvaro said, still sniffling violently and now making some disgusting slobbering noises like he was wiping his nose on his hand. “His mom – his mom is in hospital.”

“Oh,” Isco said. “So are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’m – I’m on the way to the airport right now.”

“You should pack,” Franco said. “There probably won’t be a flight till morning. Just calm down, go back, and go to the airport later. Okay?”

“Pack more, it’s cold as fuck over here,” Isco added.

“I –” Alvaro stammered, then sighed. “I just don’t feel like I can even do anything now besides think of Paulo.”

“Just look at it this way,” Franco said kindly. “He’s alive. Yeah?”

Alvaro gave a little chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s alive.”

“Let us know your flight details, ‘kay?” Isco said. “We’ll wait for you at the airport.”

“No, you have to go to Japan,” Alvaro said quickly. “Hey, you can still make your flight if you run to the gate right now.”

“We’ll think about that later, okay?” Isco said. “We’re staying.”

The both of them sat there for a while after hanging up the phone.

“So...no Japan?” Franco asked.

“Yeah.”

“So why are we still sitting here?”

Isco laughed. “I don’t know. We should probably go cancel our seats. They probably got our bags out.”

They walked quietly to the counter to cancel their seats and were told to wait for their bags, so they found more benches to sit on. Isco didn’t find it strange that Franco was silent; in fact, Franco was probably expecting Isco to fill this extended silence.

“Franco,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever notice?” Isco asked. “That Paulo might’ve had depression?”

Franco smiled sadly. “I was just thinking about it.”

“And?”

“Maybe a little bit?” Franco shrugged. “I mean, some things here and there. I just never put it together, you know?”

“You’ve known him a really long time.”

“Yeah,” Franco said. “I just – maybe – maybe he’s been dealing with this for a really long time, you know? But I never saw it, and...and I’m thinking what kinda friend does that make me?”

“It’s not your fault,” Isco said softly. “You just can’t tell sometimes.”

“He really tries, doesn’t he?”

“I think maybe there comes a point where all the good things can’t outweigh the bad things anymore.”

“Even if the bad things are just in your head.”

“Yeah.”

A long silence. An official-looking guy came by and told them their bags were ready but their passports and baggage tags had to be examined, so they followed him.

They brought all their things to Franco’s apartment and then went to the bar downstairs for dinner. Everything seemed a little anticlimactic after the sudden cancellation of their summer plans.

“So are you sad that we won’t get to go to Japan?” Isco asked over their tapas.

“I thought maybe we could still go,” Franco said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if Isco would agree. “You know, maybe in a few days.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Isco smiled. “Or somewhere nearer? Like Mexico.”

“We’ll try Japan. You’ve been excited about it since forever.”

“Just ‘cause it’s full of nature and you love nature.”

Franco smiled a smile that lit up the entire street.

The apartment was quiet, being all the way across the world from Junior and Bubu. Isco and Franco took separate showers; Isco found Franco sitting on a chair looking out at the balcony but not being outside because he’d get dusty and need another shower. The sheets were draped over his shoulders.

Isco went over to him and massaged his shoulders. They were slightly tense. Franco looked up at him and smiled and Isco bent over to give him an upside down kiss.

“Hey,” Isco whispered. “Hmm. Feels like we’re in Spider-Man.”

Franco laughed. “You’re Mary Jane.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m upside down.”

Isco tugged at his arm. “Come to bed.”

Franco listened. He shut the sliding doors and climbed into bed, draping the blanket over Isco. He closed his eyes but opened them again five seconds later.

“What?” he asked Isco, who was staring at him. _Oops_.

“What?” Isco asked back.

“Why are you staring at me again?”

“‘Cause you’re so pretty.”

Franco smiled shyly. “Stop it. What’s the matter?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

“Yeah?” Franco shimmied closer and pecked Isco on the nose as encouragement. “What is it?”

“Will you tell me?” Isco asked. “If you feel like how Paulo does?”

Franco’s eyebrows slanted down at the sides, like he was being thoughtful but at the same time found this so endearing. “I don’t feel that way,” he said.

“But if you do?”

“Alarcon,” Franco said softly, wanting Isco to stop right there.

“I mean, because I’m not exactly the most observant, but if you’re feeling anything like that and you wanna talk, I’ll listen. I’m good at listening. I’ll listen to you.”

“Okay,” Franco whispered, evidently just to placate Isco. “Yeah. And you’ll tell me too?”

Isco nodded. He was sure that the instant he had any bad thought in his head, Franco would immediately know and he’d immediately try to talk Isco out of it. But since Franco asked, Isco wasn’t going to deny him.

“I just keep thinking about what if I were in Alvaro’s shoes, you know?” Isco said softly. “And you were upset and you went missing. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you like that.”

Franco moved even closer so his nose was touching Isco’s. “But you didn’t,” he whispered.

“But what if I did? You know? You’re always so quiet and I just – sometimes I just don’t know.”

“You do know,” Franco said, slightly louder and more firmly. “You’re much, much better at this than you expect yourself to be.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You always know what I’m thinking and you always do the right thing.”

“You think?”

Franco smiled. “Yeah.”

“You know what I think you’re thinking now?”

“What?”

Isco grinned. “That you love me very much.”

Franco burst into laughter. “Uh-huh. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

Isco pressed his lips on Franco’s again. It was quiet for a while save for their mouths moving together, soft and slow and planting that feeling in Isco’s chest that he would die if he didn’t get to do this ever again in his life.

“What’s wrong?” Franco murmured as Isco’s lips started to stutter.

“Nothing,” Isco sighed. He placed his head back on his own pillow and slid his fingers in between Franco’s. “Already told you.”

“Okay.”

“Watcha thinking about?”

“Just,” Franco shrugged. “You know, how I never noticed. About Paulo.”

“Please try to stop feeling guilty about this.”

“It’s just that I’ve known him almost ten years, you know?”

“You just don’t look out for these things. You’re not trained to.”

“But maybe I should have. Looked out. I mean, I noticed them. I just did nothing about them.”

“You didn’t know. Franco,” Isco whispered, cupping one of Franco’s cheeks in his palm. “Listen. You don’t expect anyone around you to be struggling. It’s just not...not in our nature. We’re just kinda selfish in that way, you know? It’s hard to imagine that all the billions of people on this earth lead their own individual lives with their own individual problems. So you’re not a bad person for not noticing what Paulo was going through. And you’re definitely not to blame for what he feels. You’ve always been so kind to him, and to everyone. You know you have. You have to stop expecting things from past you that you can’t go back and do anymore. Okay?”

Franco closed his eyes and sighed. “I wouldn’t have left,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I wouldn’t have left. If I were Alvaro and Paulo had asked me to go.”

Isco smiled. He wrapped his arms around Franco and pulled him close because Franco suddenly looked so small. “Me neither.”

“But I mean, I guess maybe he was a little bit angry, and sad, and confused. Maybe he didn’t know what to do. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have felt that way? I mean, me saying this now is just useless. ‘Cause it already happened and it didn’t happen to me. But I mean, I’m just saying, maybe he just didn’t know what to do, ‘cause if you put me in a situation like that I probably wouldn’t know what to do either, and –”

“Okay, okay,” Isco chuckled. He knew Franco was going nowhere with his hysterical babbling. “Yeah. You think you wouldn’t have left but you don’t know for sure because you think you’d be hurt and confused.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not your fault, okay?”

“I know it’s not my fault. It’s just that I could’ve done something.”

“You didn’t know. Franco, no one can blame you for not knowing. Not even yourself.”

“Maybe I just – I shouldn’t have gotten mad at him so much.”

“Franco.”

Franco just went quiet, shaking slightly in Isco’s arms like he was trying really hard not to cry. Both their phones chimed but Franco ignored his, so Isco checked and saw that it was Alvaro sending his flight details together with the information that he hadn’t managed to get a seat on the morning flight so he was taking an afternoon one and reaching Buenos Aires in the wee hours of dawn.

“Look,” Isco whispered. “Of course you've teased Paulo tons of times. But you've always been kind to him when it mattered. And even if you had been less mad at him. Even if you hadn’t been sarcastic and rude sometimes. It doesn’t change anything. Depression doesn’t just go away once good things happen or once people start being kind. Sure, it helps. But it’s an illness. It doesn’t go away. Look at Paulo, look at Paulo’s life. I’m sure there are millions of people in the world who wish they were living as perfect a life as Paulo is. But it still doesn’t stop Paulo from being this way. You see? It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just – just the way he is. But we can help him now, okay? So we should stop looking at the past.”

Franco sighed. He mumbled something into Isco’s shirt that sounded like an ‘okay.’

“Let’s go to sleep, okay?”

“Alarcon, I love you so much.”

“Me, too,” Isco smiled. He planted a line of kisses along Franco’s forehead. “Yeah? Okay?”

Franco fell asleep swiftly.

Isco stayed awake most of the night wondering what he would do if he was made to live without Franco for a single day.

\------

Two mornings later, Alvaro finally got to Buenos Aires.

Isco and Franco were waiting for him right outside arrivals, Isco tucked in Franco’s shoulder in a way Alvaro could only describe as unglamorous. He was practically drooling all over Franco’s shirt. He occasionally nuzzled his nose against Franco’s neck, tucking his head tightly under Franco’s chin.

Franco, on the other hand, was awake, although barely. He was staring at the floor ahead of him like he was trying really hard not to sleep.

“Hi,” Alvaro said as he approached, softly but still somehow jolting Franco out of his semi-consciousness.

“Hey,” Franco said sleepily, jostling Isco in his attempt to stand up. He soon realised it, though, and sat perfectly still for a moment. He looked at the sleeping Isco, then at Alvaro, then back at Isco again, like he was suddenly confused about where he was and what he was supposed to do. He quickly decided on the better option. “Hey. Alarcon. Wake up.”

“You guys didn’t have to come,” Alvaro said.

Franco gave him the tiniest smile. He nudged Isco again, like he was desperate for Isco to wake up so he didn’t have to suffer through this awkwardness with Alvaro.

Isco did eventually wake up when Franco mentioned that Alvaro was here. He got on his feet and hooked his arm in Alvaro’s, dragging him to the exit as Franco shuffled his feet along behind them.

“How’s things?” he asked.

“Okay,” Alvaro mustered a smile. _God_ , he missed Isco. He felt like he never got to see Isco anymore. “Just – just can’t wait to see him.”

“Did you ask his brothers about him?”

“Yeah, I talked to Gus, he said Paulo’s doing okay. He’s a bit quiet.”

“Did you tell him? About the depression.”

Alvaro shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s true. And I don’t wanna worry them.”

Isco nodded. They got a cab and Franco silently slipped into the front seat so Isco and Alvaro could sit together. The ride to the hospital was silent but it was still dark enough outside for Alvaro to count the streetlights, so he did.

There were eighty-three streetlights. The ride took less than ten minutes.

Alvaro was nervous as they went inside the private hospital, Franco ahead of them this time because Alvaro was deliberately slowing his steps. They found Paulo’s family exactly where they’d said they’d be, sitting outside Paulo’s mom’s private room along a row of chairs, drinking coffee and having breakfast sandwiches. They all looked exhausted but they perked up when they saw Franco and Alvaro. A brief round of introductions had to be made for Isco, who shifted from Alvaro’s side to Franco’s.

Paulo was nowhere in sight.

“How’s your mom?” Franco asked.

“She was doing okay,” Mariano said. “But yesterday afternoon she had an infection. They caught it in time and she’s stable now.”

“Good, yeah, that’s good,” Franco said. “How long has she been here?”

“Three, four days.”

Alvaro went to the door leading to Paulo’s mom; the sign on it said ‘no entry without protective equipment’ and beside the door was a little table with some hospital gowns, gloves, face masks, shoe covers, and hairnets on it. Alvaro stood outside and looked in through the window.

Paulo’s mom looked so tiny and so frail, like if there was a sudden gust of wind she would just disintegrate. She was hooked up to what seemed like a hundred tubes. Her heartbeat and blood pressure were displayed on a small screen next to her bed.

 _Jesus_ , what Paulo had been made to go through over the last two weeks.

Gustavo appeared next to Alvaro, startling him. “I think Paulo’s on the roof, if you wanna see him.”

Alvaro’s heart skipped a beat. “On the – on the roof?”

“There’s a small garden on the roof. It looks out on the city,” Gustavo said. “We were – we were here a lot when our father was here. Paulo’s been up on the roof a lot over the past few days. I think it calms him.”

Alvaro nodded, willing the tears brimming in his eyes not to fall. “Can I – would it be okay if I go find him?”

Gustavo smiled and nodded, so Alvaro went.

It took him five entire minutes to find the elevator, which turned out to be just at the end of the corridor he was at in the first place. The highest floor was the 10th, so Alvaro tried his luck.

He found a staircase with a sign that read ‘roof access.’ He followed it and managed to push open the rusted metal door at the end with a deafening creaky sound, revealing the almost blinding daylight of the Buenos Aires winter and the crisp, cold air.

Paulo was standing at the very end of the roof, next to the concrete chest-high barrier, looking out. He didn’t budge even when the door started creaking again on its way back shut. Alvaro stood next to it, just. His heart just threatening to beat so quickly out of his chest from all the anxiousness and worry and above all the utter _happiness_ of seeing Paulo again after so many days, in one piece.

Alvaro was hit with the sudden realisation of how he could’ve returned to Paulo’s house in Turin to something way, way worse than just an empty house.

Paulo’s hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, probably because of how chilly it was up there. He tilted his head back with a sigh, his warm breath sending a puff of white air upwards. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t notice Alvaro.

Alvaro would have been perfectly content just standing there, watching Paulo for the entire day. Just knowing. Knowing Paulo was well and alive. Sure, a little torn and tattered, but alive. But something pushed him forward; something like that nagging in his head telling him to apologise, telling him to go up to Paulo and tell Paulo he was sorry he’d let Paulo down the last twelve years, he was sorry he left Paulo alone in that state of mind, and he was sorry that it took him so long to find him. He wanted to tell Paulo to come home, to come with him and let Alvaro hug him until his pieces fell back together.

Alvaro stopped next to Paulo, about three feet away.

“Hey,” he whispered.

Paulo turned slowly towards him, then back to the view ahead of him when they made eye contact. “Hi,” he mouthed more than whispered.

A long silence. In fact, ‘long’ didn’t even begin to describe it. It dragged on so long, the sun was sitting on top of one of the tallest buildings in the vicinity when Paulo spoke again.

“My mom,” he said softly, then stopped. Alvaro waited for him to continue. He didn’t.

“I know,” Alvaro said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“She stopped breathing for three minutes yesterday,” Paulo whispered. “Three minutes. For three minutes, I lost my mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You know, she told me?” Paulo continued, his voice getting thicker with every word. “She told me not to propose to you. She said that you’re not ready and I shouldn’t force you into anything. And I didn’t listen. I didn’t listen to her. And now – I’m just – what if I never get to do it again? What if I don’t get to not listen to my mom? What if I never get to hear her give me advice that I’ll just ignore again?”

“Don’t say that,” Alvaro said. “She’s fine. She’ll be fine.”

Paulo squeezed his eyes shut, his arms tensing up and pushing his fists deeper into his pockets. “Why aren’t you mad at me?” he whispered.

“I could never be mad at you,” Alvaro said. “Okay?”

“I can’t be with you, Alvi.”

“I know,” Alvaro swallowed the lump in his throat that was just the rolled up temptation of saying ‘I love you’ to Paulo, over and over again until his throat dried up. “I’m – I’m here as a friend. Okay? Your friend.”

Paulo smiled the saddest smile Alvaro had seen in his life. “We’ve never been friends.”

“I know,” Alvaro sighed. “But we can try.”

Paulo nodded. He looked up again, straight ahead, and Alvaro took the opportunity to study his features. His eyes looked like two black holes, the dark circles eating the sockets alive. His cheekbones were showing – so was his jawline, and Paulo. Paulo’s cheekbones and jaw _never showed_. Paulo always looked like he was seven years old. On that day he looked closer to fifty.

“Thanks for coming,” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

The unspoken ‘I love you’ continued to hurt the back of Alvaro’s throat.

“Isco and Franco are here, too,” Alvaro finally said.

Paulo dipped his head in a shy nod. “They didn’t have to.”

“It’s just, I went crazy trying to find you, and Franco told me to call your brothers. They told me you were here, and Isco and Franco happened to still be here so they decided to come down,” Alvaro said, the most he’d even spoken to anyone in the last three days. “We all care about you, Paulo.”

Paulo nodded again, this time shutting his eyes again as tears rolled down his cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Do you believe that?” Alvaro asked. “That we all care about you and love you very much.”

Paulo didn't answer. He just stood there with his face against the wind, eyes closed, lips trembling.

“It’s a waste of time,” he finally said.

“What is?” Alvaro asked.

“Me.”

“Paulo –”

“You know what I've been doing standing here these few days?”

“What?”

Paulo took a step closer to the concrete wall in front of him. He peered over it.

“Wondering if I’ll die if I jump off from here.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered in the most broken voice he’d ever heard from himself. He reached out with a trembling hand to grab Paulo’s elbow. “No.”

“You don't think so?”

“Don't do it,” Alvaro found himself bursting into hot, stinging tears.

“And then I thought that it wouldn't work, and if it really didn’t,” Paulo finally took one of his hands out of his hoodie, and in it was a white bottle of sleeping pills. “I thought maybe an entire bottle of these would work.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro sobbed, reaching over and trying to grab the bottle of pills but failing to do so before Paulo pulled them out of his reach. “Why are you doing this? Why do you feel this way?”

Paulo’s shoulders gave a violent shudder. “Alvi,” he whispered. “Today is the 21st of June.”

The day they met. The 21st of June, exactly twelve years ago.

If Alvaro hadn't already suspected that Paulo was in this downward spiral because of him, that was the final tipping point.

“I came up here this morning,” Paulo continued in barely a whisper. “Thinking that I was gonna do it today. ‘Cause how poetic would it be, huh? To have your life start and end on the same date?”

Alvaro didn't even know what to say. He didn't know what to _do._ He took a step towards Paulo but Paulo sidestepped.

“I can't imagine life without my mom,” Paulo sobbed. “And I just keep thinking about how yesterday, I thought she was gone. And I didn't get to say goodbye. She didn't get to hear me say I love her one last time. I just. I don't know what I’d do without her. And I thought, what have I ever done for her? What have I ever done to make anyone proud of me? I’ve tried and tried and I’ve never wanted to be anything but myself but maybe. Maybe that's not enough. Maybe I'm just. I'm just not. I just can't do what I'm meant to do. And that's my fault.”

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered. “Please. I know I will never understand how you feel but I've always tried. I've always tried and I’ll always be here to try. I'm sorry that you don't feel that way. But I'm begging you. Please. I'll even get on my knees, okay? Please. Don't do this. I know you don't think you're worth it but you are. You are to me and to everyone sitting downstairs right now. I'm sorry that you don't feel it, I'm sorry that you feel worthless because of me. But I'll tell you now nothing but the truth. You will always, always have a special part of me. You'll always have your own space in my heart and nothing and no one else will ever be able to take it. No matter how useless or hopeless you think you are. I will always want you and love you and be so proud of you. I'm sorry that I never made you believe it. I'm sorry. But I’ll never stop trying to make you believe it.”

Alvaro was legitimately on his knees by the end of that, next to Paulo’s feet, his hands grasping one of Paulo’s, the one without the bottle of pills, thinking that maybe if he held on to one part of Paulo then Paulo wouldn't suddenly disappear. Paulo was looking straight ahead, crying, but he slowly turned his head towards Alvaro.

“Alvi,” he whispered, slowly sinking to his knees next to Alvaro, and _God,_ the wave of relief that washed over Alvaro almost blinded him. “I'm broken.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “But we’ll make you better, okay? We’ll find someone and we'll help you and we’ll all always, always be here for you, okay?”

“I don't think I'm capable of accepting your love.”

“I know,” Alvaro said, wiping his cheeks with his free hand. It hurt him to say, but he did. He _did_ know. “You don't have to. Okay? I care for you. I always will. Just like any other friend of yours. Okay? I'll just be your friend. If you'll have me.”

Paulo nodded. He removed his hand from under Alvaro’s and wrapped it tightly around Alvaro’s instead. He was. He was looking at Alvaro with the same green eyes that now looked so unbelievably sad and void of hope. And it broke Alvaro’s heart.

“Will you please hand me those pills?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo placed them in Alvaro’s outstretched hand. Alvaro put them safely in the pocket of his own hoodie, but couldn’t help but notice something underneath Paulo’s sleeve as it rode up his wrist.

Blood.

Alvaro grabbed Paulo’s wrist and yanked it towards him, momentarily ignoring the hiss of pain Paulo made. He pushed the sleeve of Paulo’s hoodie up to reveal slashes halfway up his forearm, some of them grouped so closely they looked like just one giant carving out of Paulo’s skin.

They were there on his other wrist, too.

Paulo pulled his arms out of Alvaro’s grasp and crossed them over his chest, his shoulders heaving as he started crying again, staring at the little piece of concrete floor between his knees and Alvaro’s.

Alvaro reached over and wrapped his arms around Paulo, pulling him in a tight hug and almost bearing to feel some joy when Paulo melted right into his chest. Paulo was. Paulo had lost _so much weight_. He was practically just skin and bones under his hoodie. His cheekbone cut Alvaro’s skin like a knife.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” Alvaro said, his teeth gritting down to resist the temptation of either bursting into loud tears or yelling at the top of his lungs at Paulo about how he was so blind to everyone who cared about him. “Okay? Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this. You shouldn’t be here. You don’t deserve someone like me.”

“Why not?” Alvaro asked, stroking Paulo’s windswept hair down on his head. “I’m not accepting any reason besides the fact that you’re too amazing and I can’t handle your amazingness.”

Paulo chuckled softly and it was a beautiful sound. “You’re just – I’m me.”

“And?”

Paulo shrugged.

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered. “I’m sorry I left you.”

“I told you to leave.”

“But I shouldn’t have left,” Alvaro said. He just. He just couldn’t stop _thinking_ about how _close_ he had been to just. Just losing Paulo. _Forever_. He didn’t think he would ever forget this feeling. He didn’t think it would ever stop eating at his heart.

Paulo didn’t say a word. He just pushed his face into Alvaro’s shoulder.

“Promise me you’ll be okay,” Alvaro whispered.

“I can’t,” Paulo whispered back.

Alvaro squeezed him tight. “Will you try?” he asked. “You’re my best friend. My best friend in the entire world. I can’t – I can’t lose you. Ever.”

Paulo nodded. “I’ll try,” he said, the words abruptly cut off by a sob.

Alvaro wanted so badly to say ‘I love you’ to Paulo, but still those words remained nothing but a painting on the walls of the inside of Alvaro’s mouth.

“Can we be friends now?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah,” Paulo said quietly. He probably didn’t think he could go any further than that. _Alvaro_ thought he couldn’t go any further than that. Friends. Just friends.

Alvaro guessed there was always a first time for anything.

But Marta was right. Maybe if Alvaro tried helping Paulo as a friend then neither of them would feel heartbroken or too liable to a status they couldn’t live up to.

“Let’s go downstairs and get you fixed, then we’ll go for breakfast, okay?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Paulo. You’ve lost so much weight.”

“But I’m not hungry.”

“Please?”

Paulo sighed. He dragged himself to his feet, grabbing the ledge again because he wobbled a little with dizziness. Then he started shuffling to the huge metal door and Alvaro followed, his heart sinking to the ground again when he noticed how Paulo’s jeans were barely hanging off his hips.

Paulo had some trouble with the big door, so Alvaro had to go ahead and yank it open for him. Then he had some trouble going down the stairs so Alvaro offered to piggyback him.

Paulo tucked his chin into the crook of Alvaro’s neck as they walked. His arms wrapped loosely around Alvaro’s neck, his sleeves riding up again, showing his tattered wrists right in front of Alvaro’s face. Alvaro felt him shaking again, like he was sobbing, but trying his best not to sniffle too loudly into Alvaro’s ear.

Alvaro brought him straight to the emergency room to get patched up. He had his wounds checked for infection and then slathered in antiseptic and wrapped up in thick bandage. Alvaro texted Isco about being at the emergency room and had both Isco and Franco arrive barely two minutes later.

“What happened?” Isco asked breathlessly.

“He cut himself,” Alvaro whispered, trying not to cry all over the form he was trying to fill in with Paulo’s particulars. “Could someone help me with this please?”

Franco took it and left to fill it in at the next counter. Isco hooked his arm around Alvaro’s elbow. “Hey, you okay?” he asked. “You need a hug?”

Alvaro nodded. He collapsed into Isco’s arms and let Isco hold him for a while.

“You’re too small,” he said. “It’s not nice.”

“Hey,” Isco said, offended. “Paulo’s small too. You like hugging him.”

“It’s different.”

Isco scoffed. He propped Alvaro up against the counter and went to fetch Franco, who furrowed his brow at what Isco said to him before reluctantly handing over the clipboard and pen and coming over to Alvaro.

“Hug?” he asked, opening his arms.

Alvaro obliged, firstly because he really needed a hug and secondly because the exhaustion of the last few days had just hit him and he’d forgotten how embarrassment felt like.

Franco’s arms folded comfortably around Alvaro. They squeezed tight, but not tight enough to suffocate, just enough so Alvaro briefly felt whole again. He wrapped his arms around Franco’s waist and tucked his head into Franco’s shoulder. This was way more comfortable and soothing than Alvaro would ever admit.

“So you and Paulo,” Franco said softly. “What’s happening?”

“We think we’ll just be friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just. I’m gonna be around. As a friend. ‘Cause he doesn’t think that...that he can accept my love. Which – I just – it’s fine. I think maybe he needs to take care of himself before anything can happen again between us. And I accept that. He just has to focus on himself and not us. I just have to let that happen. ‘Cause he’s gonna be okay and I’m gonna make sure that he’s okay.”

“Okay,” Franco whispered. “Cool.”

“Thanks.”

“He _will_ be okay.”

“I know. I just think that I should stop taking that for granted.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You getting tired of this hug?” Alvaro asked.

“Isco said hug you for as long as you want.”

“And you’re listening to him?”

“Of course. I always listen to him.”

“But also because he said you won’t get a kiss if you don’t listen.”

“Pfft,” Franco scoffed, then relented. “Fine. Also that.”

Alvaro laughed. He gently slipped out of the hug and turned to see Paulo standing some distance away, near the end of the corridor leading to the room he’d been treated in. He was leaning against the wall, expressionless, but he let out a soft chuckle when he saw that Alvaro had noticed him peeking at their embrace.

“You good?” he asked as he approached Paulo.

Paulo flashed his bandaged wrists as a response, then returned his hands to his pockets.

“Hey,” Isco said, popping up behind Alvaro. “Hi. How are you?”

Paulo smiled at him. “Hey,” was all he said.

“Let’s go eat something,” Isco said. “I’m _starving_.”

He led the way to the elevator, but Franco hung back to talk to Paulo. Alvaro let them. He handed in the completed form and joined them at the lift, which they took downstairs to the cafeteria.

Paulo wasn’t in the mood to eat anything, still. They got him a big pile of pancakes lathered with syrup and some bacon and sausages, but he just sat there staring at it and poking holes in his sausages with his fork.

“Do you want something else?” Franco asked.

Paulo shook his head.

“Would you like me to cut it up for you?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shook his head again. “Just not hungry.”

Everyone went silent for a while.

Then Isco suddenly reached way across the table and dragged Paulo’s plate in front of himself, and Alvaro and Franco immediately thought of the same thing, that Isco was just gonna gobble all the food up himself, so they moved to take it back. But all Isco did was start cutting the food into tiny pieces, muttering something about how Alvaro and Franco were the most passive people he’d met in his entire life.

He gently nudged the plate back in front of Paulo was he was done. Alvaro didn’t think it would work, but alas – Paulo picked up his fork and started eating.

Alvaro realised that he shouldn’t even have been surprised because after all, Isco was the most experienced in dealing with any sort of tantrum, childish or otherwise.

Not that Paulo was throwing a tantrum, of course. Alvaro had to remind himself never to think of it as that.

Paulo managed to finish more than half of his plate, which Alvaro considered an achievement. He stood up with his tea and brought it to the aquarium in the far corner of the cafeteria, dragging a chair in front of it and sitting down. He sipped slowly from his mug as he watched the fishes.

“He’s so thin,” Alvaro said softly. “Did you see how thin he is? He’s just bones.”

“But still nicer to hug than me?” Isco asked.

Alvaro chucked one of Paulo’s sausage chunks at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I think maybe someone has to watch him,” Franco chimed in softly, sipping from his coffee cup. “You know, make sure he’s eating.”

“Sometimes he just wants to be alone, though,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess –” Franco shrugged. “You planning on taking him to see someone? Like, a psychiatrist or something?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro swallowed. He hated to think – he hated to think that his Paulo was broken. “Maybe later, or tomorrow.”

“You want us to stay?” Franco asked.

Alvaro shook his head. “It’s okay. You guys must have plans.”

“We can stay,” Isco offered. “Maybe just a couple days before you get tired of us.”

Alvaro nodded. “Do you guys mind if I…” he gestured to Paulo, hoping the both of them would understand.

They waved at him to go, so he went over to Paulo and stood a couple feet away from his chair, silently, not really knowing what he should say. Paulo’s eyes were still fixed on the aquarium, though the empty look in them suggested that he was lost in his own mind rather than watching the fish.

“How’re you feeling?” Alvaro asked softly.

Paulo didn’t answer; he was probably too distracted by his thoughts. Alvaro took a step closer and Paulo startled, dropping his cup of tea so it shattered into pieces.

“Oh, fuck,” Paulo whispered, immediately getting on his knees and attempting to pick up the pieces with his own hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, hey,” Alvaro grabbed Paulo gently by the wrists and pulled him away from the debris. He saw Isco and Franco rush halfway to them and then swerve to find someone to help clean up. Alvaro put Paulo down in a chair a safe distance away. “Are you okay? Sorry I scared you.”

“You guys okay?” Franco asked, appearing behind Alvaro. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry,” Paulo said again.

“As long as you’re fine,” Alvaro said. He mustered a smile when Paulo looked at him.

Paulo sighed. “I just – I just wanna nap for a while, is that okay?”

Before anyone could respond, he stood up and started walking. Everyone hurried after him, afraid to leave him alone for even a second. He went up to his mom’s floor, nodded a greeting to his family, then headed to the very end of the row of seats so he could curl up with his head against the wall and fall asleep instantly.

The three of them stood there in a row watching him half in awe and half in anxiousness.

“Do you guys think maybe we should stop following him around?” Isco whispered.

“What if he does something stupid?” Alvaro asked.

“Well, maybe one of us at a time,” Franco suggested.

“Okay, my turn,” Alvaro announced, shoving the both of them aside. He sat down four seats away from Paulo; Paulo didn’t fidget, not even restlessly in his sleep like normal people did. He just. Just slept.

Alvaro retrieved his travel pillow and an extra hoodie from the duffel bag he’d brought. He tucked the pillow under Paulo’s head and draped the hoodie over him for warmth.

Then he sat and waited for Paulo to wake up.

He didn’t think there was anything else he could do. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes off Paulo for even one second. He didn’t want Paulo to wake up all alone again.

About twenty minutes later Isco started to doze again, Alvaro noticing it because they were sitting a few seats away and Isco was making really whiny noises at Franco. Alvaro turned but Franco was looking at him so he quickly turned back to Paulo.

A few seconds of whispering later, Franco and Isco appeared on either side of Alvaro, each taking a seat like some sort of planned ambush. They sat quietly like they’d planned to go over to Alvaro but not actually what to _say_ to him.

Alvaro burst into tears.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Franco asked.

“Do you want something to drink?” Isco asked. “Wait, I’ll get you some coffee or something.”

“He almost died,” Alvaro sobbed.

“What?” Franco asked. To Alvaro’s surprise, he wrapped an arm around Alvaro’s shoulders and held him in a firm hug. “C’mere. Tell us what happened.”

“He cut himself,” Alvaro said, although they already knew. “Did you see? His wrists.”

“Yeah,” Isco said softly.

“And on the roof,” Alvaro paused to gulp loudly. “He told me he thought that today, he’d probably kill himself. ‘Cause today’s the 21st of June, the day we met, and he says that it would be so poetic to have his life start and end on the same day.”

“Alvaro,” Franco whispered.

“Then he showed me this bottle of pills,” Alvaro continued, taking the pills out of his hoodie and showing it to Isco and Franco. “And said that maybe jumping wouldn’t work and if it didn’t he thought these would work.”

“Stop,” Isco said, reaching over and taking the bottle of pills from Alvaro.

“I just keep thinking, you know?” Alvaro sobbed, pressing his cheek into Franco’s shoulder like a baby. “What if I’d just been a bit later? Would Paulo be – why did I take so long to find him? Why did I even leave him alone last Saturday? I’m so fucking stupid. I should never have left and I almost – Paulo almost –”

“Okay, okay,” Franco said, pushing Alvaro’s head into his shoulder. “He’s fine now. You got here just in time. Okay? You’re alright.”

“But what if I _hadn’t_?” Alvaro mumbled. “I would – Paulo would be – he’d just be gone. I would – I don’t know what I’d ever do without him.”

“He’s fine now,” Franco whispered. “Let’s just focus on that, ‘kay?”

“I did this to him,” Alvaro said, sniffling. “I made him this way.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. I’ve always made him feel like he wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not true. Paulo knows he’s always been enough for you.”

“But _I made him like this._ ”

“Look,” Isco suddenly interjected. “You two. Maybe we all had some part to play in Paulo turning out like this. But this – it’s not so simple. There must be so many other things Paulo is struggling with that made him like this. It’s something inside of him, inherently, that makes him react this way. And you two sitting around blaming yourselves is just gonna make things worse and it’s not going to help him at all. So what we’re gonna do now is, we’re gonna figure this out with him, and we’re going to make sure he gets some help so he’ll be okay. Okay?”

Alvaro tilted his head up to see that Franco was blinking at Isco’s speech. “You blame yourself too?” Alvaro asked.

Franco blinked at him instead. Isco threw his arms in the air in defeat, then went over to Paulo and gently shifted him so he was lying horizontally in what looked like a more comfortable position. He sat next to Paulo and softly stroked his hair.

“I think maybe I should’ve been nicer to him,” Franco finally said.

“But you’ve always been nice to him,” Alvaro said. “Even when I haven’t.”

“I just keep thinking that it wasn’t enough,” Franco said softly. He sounded. He sounded sad. “Like when he came to Seville to find me, and he was already so sad, and I just didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You helped him.”

“I keep thinking how I don’t notice these things,” Franco continued. “Like, you know. You’d understand. I’ve known him for almost as long as you have.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly. “I keep asking myself how I missed all of this. I mean, now that I think about it, he’s probably been this way for a really long time.”

“What if I’d helped him earlier?” Franco asked. “You know? Maybe he’d be better now.”

“You know, you’re so kind to him?” Alvaro smiled. “Sometimes...sometimes I think about how come you two never...you know, got together.”

“‘Cause he was made for you,” Franco said, giving Alvaro’s shoulder a squeeze. “I believe that. Paulo has always been made to be yours.”

A long silence. Alvaro sighed. Franco took a deep breath.

“You think,” Alvaro said, gesturing to Isco. “Maybe he’s right?”

Franco chuckled. He let go of the hug and made Alvaro sit up straight. “He’s always right, the little piece of shit.”

Alvaro smiled. He wiped his cheeks with his palms. “I just keep thinking about the feeling, just now, on the roof,” he whispered. “That feeling of realising how close I’d come to losing him. And not just – just losing him like breaking up. Losing him – like forever. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“Yeah,” Franco said. “You’re sure you can deal with this? The whole ‘being friends’ thing.”

“I have to try,” Alvaro said, trying not to cry again. “I just. I don’t want him to feel alone. I don’t want him to wake up with no one around. And I know there are many people who can help him and who would be willing to help him, but. But I want to do it. Because I love him so much and I just have to make sure he’s okay. It doesn’t matter if he loves me back. I just want him to be okay. And if that means he has to end our relationship and look after himself, then. Then I’m fine with it.”

“He still loves you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“He’s just temporarily forgotten how to love anything.”

Alvaro nodded. He turned to where Isco and Paulo were, Isco now starting to doze off again with his hand resting on Paulo’s head, and Paulo still sound asleep. “Do you wanna go and, I don’t know, hold him up?”

Franco smiled. He gave Alvaro’s head a ruffle, then went and sat next to Isco so Isco could use him as a pillow. Alvaro watched them for a while but then decided that was creepy, so he decided to go inside and see Paulo’s mom.

He felt a little weird at first, just standing there four feet away from her bed, covered in hospital blue, not daring to go too close in case he spread some germs to her. He sat down in the chair next to her bed and sighed.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said, loudly enough over all the beeping but softly enough to not be disruptive. “It’s Alvaro. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.

“I know I don’t have any right to say this, but I’m going to. Paulo needs you. You’ve been so strong all these years, you’ve been so strong for Paulo and Mariano and Gus, and now Paulo needs you more than he ever has because I know without you, Paulo doesn’t know how to be strong. He needs someone to show him. And no one in this world has managed to do that better than you have. I’m sorry that I didn’t take as good care of Paulo as you wanted me to. I’m sorry that I let this drag on and escalate. I’m so sorry. No words can ever describe how I feel right now about this. But I just – we all need you to be strong. We all need you to keep holding on because you’re going to be okay and well again very soon. We all need you. Paulo needs you. And we all love and support you so much. I’ll talk to you soon – mom. Mom. I’ll talk to you soon. I can’t wait. I love you.”

He thought of kissing Paulo’s mom on the head but was afraid that she would either break or fall sick again, so he didn’t. Instead he just sat there crying quietly because now he was alone and it was quiet and it was suddenly dawning on Alvaro how his world was slowly crumbling around him.

The hospital gown rustled menacingly as Alvaro squished it in the bin outside the door, but Paulo and Isco remained asleep. Franco glanced briefly at Alvaro, then went back to fiddling with his phone.

When Alvaro sat down next to him he discovered that Franco was playing Minesweeper. He realised he wasn’t even surprised.

“Doesn’t that make you even sleepier?” Alvaro asked.

“Not really,” Franco mumbled. Alvaro could tell he was lying.

A few minutes passed before the walls of the hospital corridor started to cave in on Alvaro. He’d never been too much of a fan of hospitals. The harsh white lighting and the colour blue everywhere soon became nauseating.

Alvaro stood up and announced to a very rapidly falling asleep Franco that he was going to take a walk. He was met with a tired grunt.

Alvaro went up to the roof.

The afternoon sky was a calming blue, speckled with bright white clouds that made the air look like a giant blue cow. The road below was quiet. Alvaro watched a delivery being made at the bakery across the street. He understood why Paulo liked coming up here. It was soothing and the air was fresh. Potted plants lined the L-shaped corner of the roof. There was a green tiled table and some garden chairs in another corner. The day was clear so Alvaro could see across the city.

He wondered how it felt like to think that going splat on the concrete below was a more appealing choice than staying alive.

But try as he might, Alvaro didn’t think he could ever understand how it felt like to feel the way Paulo did.

Alvaro lost track of time up there; the clouds slowly drifting across his sight in the wind aided that. Alvaro began to realise that every person he saw below him – every person that he would ever meet – led a life more complicated than Alvaro would ever be able to comprehend.

The metal door leading from the staircase gave a loud cry of resistance as it was laboriously shoved open. Alvaro turned around, wondering who it was that he now had to share his space with.

It was Paulo.

He kept his eyes on the ground, feet moving slowly but steadily, like he had already planned out his steps. He took his place on Alvaro’s right hand, exactly as they were that morning. His eyes were red and tired and hollowed as he gazed at the horizon.

He didn’t seem to mind sharing his own haven with Alvaro, despite his recent inclination towards being alone.

And as long as Paulo would allow him, Alvaro was going to stay right there by his side.

Even if it resulted in four long hours of just standing there, doing nothing. Saying nothing. Just the wind in their hair and the sunlight further highlighting the shadows under Paulo’s cheekbones, making Alvaro hate every fiber of his own being for letting Paulo become this way.

The sun was a glowing semicircle peeking over the top of the next building when Alvaro tugged on Paulo’s arm.

Paulo followed willingly, clambering onto Alvaro’s back when Alvaro bent over. He finished half of his food again, in the cafeteria, upon the three of them pestering him and cutting up his food.

Alvaro watched him sluggishly don the whole set of protective equipment outside his mom’s room, then proceed to sit in the chair Alvaro was in earlier and watch his mom. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there quietly and watched, like he hoped his presence would give his mom strength. Like he thought if he let himself take his eyes off her again, she would be gone before he realised.

Alvaro sat outside, watching Paulo’s back through the rectangular window in the door. He didn’t close his eyes for one second throughout the night, worried that if he let himself take his eyes off Paulo again, he would be gone before Alvaro realised.

\------

After spending two nights at the hospital, Alvaro managed to convince Paulo to go back home.

“Do you wanna go back home?” he suddenly asked, during one of their usually completely silent rooftop sessions. “Maybe take a shower, have a proper rest?”

Paulo wondered if Alvaro was trying to tell Paulo that he stunk.

Instead of asking, he just nodded and let Alvaro take him home.

Alvaro hovered around the bathroom door as Paulo stacked his clean clothes and started to peel his days-old jeans off his legs. Paulo gave him a shy glance and he scurried away. He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself around Paulo these days, like he was scared if he made one wrong step, Paulo would break.

The long shower Paulo took didn’t seem to rid Paulo of all the dirt he was convinced coated his entire body. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was raw and the wounds on his wrist re-opened, but he still felt like he had run a marathon and then had a bath in some mud.

Alvaro knocked on the bathroom door, asking if Paulo was okay. Paulo mumbled something in response but wasn’t sure if Alvaro heard; after all, Paulo couldn’t really even hear himself.

He was still waiting right outside when Paulo had dragged himself out of the shower and put on his clothes. He looked relieved to see Paulo, but that turned to worry when he saw Paulo’s red arms and the torn bit of skin at Paulo’s wrists.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Paulo nodded. Alvaro seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so he offered, “Don’t feel clean.”

Alvaro led him to the bed and made him wait as he fetched the first aid kit. He applied antiseptic on Paulo’s wounds, occasionally pausing in case it stung. Paulo barely felt anything.

Alvaro gave him a nervous hug and for a split second, Paulo felt clean again.

“Can I stay?” Alvaro asked once he’d tucked Paulo into bed.

Paulo shrugged. He didn’t know why. He wanted Alvaro to stay.

“I mean, I don’t wanna leave you alone,” Alvaro continued, more softly. “I’m – do you want someone else? Maybe I’ll call Franco?”

“Stay, please,” Paulo whispered hoarsely.

Alvaro smiled. He took a half-step forward, like he wanted to hug Paulo or kiss Paulo on the head – but then decided otherwise. He peeked at Paulo with loving eyes through the crack in the door as he shut it.

Paulo slept.

\------

Paulo slept and slept.

He wasn’t aware how many days had passed, but every time he woke up there was a new bottle of water and warm food on his bedside table. The dressing on his wrists would be fresh. He’d eat as much as he could, then go outside, where Alvaro would be sitting on the couch playing FIFA all by himself or watching TV. They’d sit there together for hours on end, not talking.

Paulo wasn’t sure where Alvaro was spending his nights. The guestroom had long been taken over by Paulo’s Lego sculptures, the bed drowned to death in tiny red and yellow bricks. Still, Alvaro appeared in fresh home clothes every day.

He asked Alvaro once. Alvaro told him he stayed at a hotel nearby.

Paulo woke up one night feeling parched. He downed the bottle of water at his bedside but it wasn’t enough, so he got on his feet and made the long journey to the kitchen.

He found out Alvaro was lying.

He was sleeping on the couch. Alvaro was sleeping on the couch, arms draped over one armrest as a pillow and legs hanging off the other side because the couch was way too short for him. For the first time, Paulo noticed the open duffel sitting near the door, half hidden under the curtains of the front window.

Paulo’s thirst was temporarily forgotten as he sat on the edge of the coffee table near Alvaro’s head. He was sleeping chest-down, his mouth wide open and his cheek pressed against one of the couch pillows. The TV was turned off, which meant that Alvaro hadn’t accidentally fallen asleep there – he’d planned to.

Paulo gently took one of Alvaro’s hands; it still fit nicely into both of Paulo’s. It was cold but it was soft. Paulo gripped it as tightly as he could. He slid his fingers between Alvaro’s, in the gaps he was still convinced were made just for his own fingers to slip through.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered. _Sorry that I’m like this. Sorry that you’re like this because of me. Sorry that you’re wasting your summer away because you feel like you need to take care of me even though I know it isn’t worth it. Sorry that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to love and be loved. Sorry that I still keep thinking that taking a long walk in the ocean would be a good break from it all._

It was only a few minutes later that Alvaro stirred – well, he didn’t so much stir as he jolted awake, his hand slipping out of Paulo’s weak grasp. He looked surprised to see Paulo there; it seemed like Paulo’s presence was what had woken him up in the first place.

“Hey,” he breathed, sounding worried.

Paulo scurried to the kitchen to get the glass of water he’d forgotten about. He got there so fast that he got a little dizzy and had to hold the counter to balance himself.

Alvaro suddenly appeared behind him, hand gripping Paulo’s bicep to steady him. Paulo collapsed against him. “Hey,” Alvaro said again, arm wrapping protectively around Paulo. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Thirsty,” Paulo whispered. It felt. It felt nice to be held by Alvaro like that.

“I’ll get it for you, okay?” Alvaro said.

He proceeded to shuffle around and get two glasses and some water, all the while still hugging Paulo. Paulo let himself think that Alvaro was enjoying it as much as Paulo was.

The journey back to the living room seemed a lot shorter when it was Alvaro piggybacking him.

Alvaro returned with the two glasses of water. He set one on the table and handed one to Paulo.

Paulo finished it in one gulp.

“Are you still tired?” Alvaro asked, and Paulo hated that he sounded hopeful.

Paulo shrugged.

Alvaro went quiet, like he was afraid to overwhelm Paulo with the millions of questions he wanted to ask. Paulo put his empty glass on the table and reached for the full one. Alvaro didn’t stop him.

“How many days?” Paulo asked.

“A week since I came.”

So Alvaro had been sleeping on the tiny couch for nearly a week.

“Your mom’s getting better,” Alvaro added. “She’s almost awake, and you can go in without wearing extra stuff.”

Paulo dipped his head in response.

It was silent after that. Dark and silent. There wasn’t even the sound of Alvaro’s restless fidgeting.

“I got your voicemail,” Paulo heard himself say.

A pause before Alvaro said, “Yeah?”

Paulo dipped his head again. “I listened to it every day,” he whispered. “It’s what – it kept me. Kept me going.”

Alvaro’s hand found Paulo’s, prying his fingers off the glass. He grasped it tight, fingers curling, and gave it a hard squeeze.

Paulo just wanted so badly for Alvaro to know that he loved him. That every cell in Paulo’s body still cried out for Alvaro. Paulo had just. He’d just forgotten how to feel. He'd forgotten how to form those words with his mouth.

“I’ll take you to see someone, okay?” Alvaro asked, voice wavering. “To...to get help. Tomorrow? Is that okay?”

Paulo didn’t want help. He didn’t think anyone could ever help him.

“Please?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo put his glass on the table and curled up on his side, where Alvaro’s feet had been earlier while he was sleeping. He closed his eyes, suddenly drained of any energy.

Alvaro wrapped his fingers around one of Paulo’s ankles. He gave it a squeeze, slowly moving up Paulo’s calf. Paulo didn’t respond.

Alvaro stood up and hooked his arms under Paulo’s body, lifting him off the couch. “C’mon,” he said into Paulo’s ear. “I’ll take you back to bed.”

Paulo let him. He watched Alvaro fluff his pillows and tuck the sheets comfortably around him. He watched Alvaro stand by the side of the bed for a while, eyes traveling up and down Paulo’s body just to check everything was okay. He watched Alvaro smile like he really didn’t want to go back outside but knew he had to.

“Alvi,” Paulo called when Alvaro turned to go out the door.

Alvaro turned back around.

Paulo patted the empty space next to him.

Alvaro climbed in hesitantly. He settled on his side, facing Paulo, keeping a safe distance between them. He didn’t close his eyes.

Paulo closed his eyes.

Paulo slept.

\------

Paulo woke up with a burning desire to kill himself.

Alvaro was fast asleep right next to him, having given up on watching Paulo. Paulo sat up, heart thumping so loudly it was like a war was coming. His fingers fidgeted at the bandages around his wrist, too weak to remove them but enough to pick the top layer apart.

He gave Alvaro a soft kiss on the head.

Paulo needed. He just felt this overwhelming _need_ to rid the world of his own existence. The urge filled his veins, ravaging his entire body like a fire. As if Paulo had woken up with an epiphany that the world would be so much better without him. The world had lost its need for Paulo Dybala.

Paulo had forgotten why it’d taken him so long. Why it’d taken him twenty eight years to figure this out, to figure out that he couldn’t accomplish what he’d been born to do. To figure out that he wasn’t deserving of all the love and adoration people had afforded him.

To figure out that he was merely a husk of what everybody expected him to be.

He wandered to the living room, gathering bits of strength with every furry sliver of bandage he managed to rip off on the way. He did a haphazard search of Alvaro’s belongings but couldn't find the bottle of pills he’d confiscated.

A check of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom confirmed that they weren't there, either.

What was there, though, was a box of razor blades.

Paulo was hit by a surge of determination that had been sorely missing the past month. He squatted on the floor and ripped open a new package. He held the shiny new blade in his hand. It reflected what little light hit the bathroom floor from the window high up in the wall.

Paulo started carving.

The rest of the bandages broke off easily. Paulo winced when he hit skin, right in the joint where his forearm met his palm, where the skin was the thinnest and where all the veins would pop instantly.

It was addictive. The scraping, the tearing, the – the _euphoria_ when Paulo hit bone. The blood was to Paulo what a mirage was to a desert wanderer. With every stroke of his hand Paulo got a step closer to freedom, and he realised he had never looked forward to anything more.

Paulo’s vision started to haze as he ventured up his arm with a vertical cut. He felt so tired – so physically tired, but on top of that, so mentally drained that it hurt. Paulo just wanted this to end. He just wanted to stop feeling anything and if the mental pain first had to be replaced with physical pain, then Paulo was going to get through it.

He wasn’t sure how much blood was enough. He thought maybe if he closed his eyes. If he closed his eyes and floated. Maybe that was enough.

\------

Alvaro’s voice was like a string pulling Paulo back down from the sky.

_Paulo...stop...ambulance. Why? Someone...yourself...can’t do this. Hey...stay._

Paulo didn’t want to stay.

A t-shirt taut around his arm. It was red. Everything was red.

Alvaro’s face was stained with red.

_I love you._

Paulo closed his eyes and stopped listening.

\------

Paulo hadn’t thought the siren could be heard from inside the ambulance.

It was a silly thing to think about when you’re about to die.

_Paulo...awake. Stay with us._

Paulo wanted to tell them to stop trying to save him.

He couldn’t find the strength.

\------

The hospital lights made Paulo want to vomit.

Paulo felt and heard more than he saw. The patter of footsteps as he was hauled into the building. The wheels of his stretcher rolling on the polished floor. Restless chatter of other human beings.

His left arm felt like a piece of lead at his side.

Alvaro’s bloody hand produced a soft squish as he pressed it against Paulo’s cheek.

_I love you so much. Please hold on._

His lips were moist as he planted them on Paulo’s head. With blood or with tears, Paulo didn’t know.

The world faded into a murmur around Paulo. Shapes phased into pastel-coloured splashes in Paulo’s mind. There was a buzzing in Paulo’s ear.

But strangely, in all that mess, Paulo could make out one voice.

_A friend...not family...I’m not...I can fill it in...have his details...I have...let me…_

_Not related...we’re not...I’m just a friend._

_I’m just a friend._

And despite the fact that Paulo’s arm was drowning in its own blood, hearing those four words was the most painful thing that was happening to him right then.

Paulo wished he could muster enough strength to sit up and tell Alvaro that he wasn’t just a friend.

He was more than a friend.

He had always been. He would _always be_.

If Paulo had been allowed to do just one more thing before his little ending, he would make sure Alvaro knew.

\------

It was plain and simple.

Paulo’s life didn’t flash before his eyes.

Regret didn’t consume him like the flames of a forest fire. There was no giant, sudden realisation that he was throwing away everything life possibly had to offer, including the possibility of things becoming better. There was no desire to go back in time and undo this ending.

All the hype around someone’s last moments – they were all lies.

It was quiet. It was peaceful.

Paulo didn’t feel anything. He didn’t _think_ of anything.

He didn’t regret anything.

Some part of him knew that the lights around him were blinding.

But he showed no resistance to the cloak of darkness that descended upon him one last time.

\------

Paulo slept.


	8. Keep Telling Me That It Gets Better, Does It Ever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I'm sorry if I scared or disturbed you with the previous chapter. Again, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, please please feel free to stop reading. I hope everyone is okay and please talk to someone if you're feeling down or any kind of upset. You can talk to me on [tumblr](http://serhigomez.tumblr.com/) if you need someone to listen. Thank you all again for all your support and kind comments!
> 
> Title is from In My Blood by Shawn Mendes.

What was Alvaro supposed to do next? 

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure it out.

He couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to do after watching the love of his life fade away like dusk to night, without a fight.

He hovered by the doors that Paulo had been pushed through; they were locked by card access, so Alvaro could only peek into the tempered glass windows. He sat in the middle of an empty row of chairs. A busy nurse flung a set of clean clothes and a small towel next to Alvaro and hurried away after a curt ‘probably need these’ to Alvaro. 

Alvaro was covered in Paulo’s blood.

His arms. His legs. His t-shirt. His face.

Under his fingernails.

The scent of iron was nauseating. Alvaro could taste it in his mouth.

“Are you done with that?” a nurse snapped, startling Alvaro and making him realise he was still holding the clipboard and the form with Paulo’s details. Alvaro’s own bloody fingerprints were scattered around the edges.

“Yeah,” he said, handing the clipboard and pen to her.

She seemed undeterred by the brownish splotches. She grabbed it and disappeared.

Everyone seemed to be so quick-tempered in that place. 

Alvaro examined the blood wedged in the lines of his palms.

He couldn’t get the image of Paulo bleeding out on the bathroom floor out of his head.

He retrieved his phone from his pocket. The blood smears on it from earlier when he called the ambulance had already dried on the glass screen. The only person he could think to call was Mariano.

“Can you come to the hospital?”

A long pause.

“I’m at the hospital,” Mariano said.

“No, the other one, the one that’s –”  _ God,  _ Alvaro didn’t even know the name of this fucking place. “– near Paulo’s place.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Paulo – I just – Paulo’s inside. I’m – I just need you to come here, please, can you come? Please.”

“Share your location. I’ll be right there.”

Alvaro found just the right amount of strength to do that, and nothing more.

He stared at the analog clock on the wall, not realising it was actually past four am until Mariano startled him. 

“Hey,” he said, doing a double take when he saw Alvaro covered in blood, like he’d just had a fight with a wild animal. “Oh my God, what the hell happened?”

“He tried it again,” Alvaro said. When Mariano just looked puzzled, Alvaro made a cutting motion at his wrist.

“But – the blood,” was all Mariano could point out. “It’s – a lot.”

“He got really deep and –” Alvaro paused as his voice staggered. “And really high, and it was – his arm, it was just – just  _ open _ , and he was just lying there and I thought he was dead and he kept bleeding and bleeding and I couldn’t stop it, I tried but I couldn’t. And I kept telling him to stay with me but I don’t know if he heard me, his heart got so slow on the way here and I don’t know if he’ll be okay, I just want him to be okay,” Alvaro sobbed, burying his face in his hands. “Holy fuck, I’m so fucking tired.”

“You need to rest,” Mariano said softly. “Are those clothes that they gave you? You should change. C’mon. I’ll go with you to wash up.”

“What if they come back with Paulo?”

“They’ll find us. C’mon.”

“I don’t want him to die.”

“He’ll be okay,” Mariano said gently, and Alvaro appreciated it because he knew Mariano himself was equally worried. “Okay? You have to be strong.”

Alvaro found no argument for that, so he let Mariano guide him by the arm to the nearest restroom and into the only shower stall. 

Alvaro stood under the shower until the stream of water whirling into the drain turned from deep red to transparent.

He stood near the sinks obediently as Mariano used the damp towel to scrub off all the blood on Alvaro’s face.

The clothes the nurse had given him consisted of a simple beige t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Alvaro put them on and dumped his old clothes in the bin. He followed Mariano back outside and sat down while he asked about Paulo at the counter.

“Sorry I made you come all the way down here,” Alvaro said when Mariano came back without any news.

Mariano smiled wryly. “You forgot he’s my brother.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t take care of him.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve taken such good care of him.”

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I shouldn’t – he was right next to me. And he got out of bed and I didn’t even  _ know _ .”

“It was like, three am, Alvaro.”

“He made me come into bed,” Alvaro sobbed. “And I thought that was his way of telling me that he thought maybe things were gonna get better. ‘Cause I’d told him earlier that tomorrow I’m gonna take him to see someone, to get help, and he didn’t respond. So I thought that him asking me to get into bed was – it was a good thing.”

“Maybe he does want to get better,” Mariano suggested. “You know? That’s a good sign.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“But he still – he did that.”

“He can’t control what he’s thinking.”

“What if I hadn’t woken up? What if I was just a little bit later? Paulo would – he’d just be –”

“You found him, you got him here, and that’s all that matters right now, okay?”

“I love him so much. So much.”

“I know,” Mariano smiled. “Hey. You know what? I think I know the real reason he asked you to get into bed.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s ‘cause he loves you. It’s not that he’s getting better or he thinks he’ll get better, or anything like that. Maybe it is. I don’t know. But behind that, the biggest reason is that he loves you and he wants to be with you and he doesn’t know how to say it.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered.

“I’ll go get us some drinks, okay?” Mariano asked. “What would you like?”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

Mariano disappeared in the direction of the vending machine.

Alvaro stared at the clock until it hit five. He fidgeted with his fingers. 

He found dried blood under his fingernails.

He didn’t clean them.

He thought that if this was the only part of Paulo that he had left, then he never wanted to lose it.

\------

The second person Alvaro thought to call was Franco.

The fact that he was all the way in Japan with Isco was both a hassle and a help. A hassle because, well, they’d already postponed their holiday because of Alvaro and Paulo and now Alvaro was just going to bother him again – and a help because at least it was evening over there when Alvaro called.

Franco sounded surprised when he picked up the phone. 

“Hi,” he said slowly. “What’s the matter?”

Alvaro suddenly felt guilty about planting this bomb on Franco.

“How are you guys?” he asked instead of going straight ahead with the news.

“We’re okay,” Franco said. “Did you mean to call Isco? He’s right here. I can pass the phone to him.”

“No,” Alvaro said quickly. He sighed. “I just. Sorry I called. I’ll just – I’ll hang up now.”

“Alvaro,” Franco said softly. “Do you need to tell me something? Talk about something? You can, you know? You know how important it is. Right now, you know how important it is to talk.”

Alvaro took a deep breath. 

“Paulo’s in hospital,” Alvaro said.

A long pause.

“What? What happened?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you on your holiday.”

“No, tell me what happened.”

“I found him,” Alvaro bit his lip for a moment to stop his sob. “I found him, uh. Bleeding out. And, uh, he’s in the A&E, and they haven’t told us anything, so we’re – we’re just waiting, and I thought. I thought you’d like to know, in case. In case anything...anything happens to him.”

“Should we go back? We can go back.”

“No, Mariano’s here, and – and we think, we hope he’s okay. But, uh. But I just thought you’d care to know.”

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered.

“Would you like us to go back?”

“No,” Alvaro said. “You guys just – just enjoy your holiday, yeah? I’m – I’m sorry I called you with this.”

“Stop saying that,” Franco said. “I’m glad you called.”

“I’m just – I just want them to come out here and tell me Paulo’s okay, you know?”

“Yeah,” Franco said kindly. “Hey. Alvaro. You know that you’re allowed to cry and be angry, right? Being strong for him doesn’t – doesn’t mean you just have to be calm and quiet. You can cry and yell and be mad and still be strong. Being strong for him is...sometimes it’s just accepting that you aren’t.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said softly, swallowing his sob but letting his tears fall. “Thank you.”

“Call me again when he’s out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Call us anytime.”

“I will,” Alvaro whispered. “Thank you.”

It seemed even quieter when Alvaro hung up the phone.

He felt incredibly stupid to even think that because the A&E was probably the noisiest place in the universe.

But Alvaro just.

Alvaro was so afraid that without Paulo, the rest of his life would just be this quiet.

\------

“Paulo is being transferred to a private ward.”

The words were like music to Alvaro’s ears, like the most melodious alarm waking him from his restless slumber. 

He shot up from his seat towards the source of the voice. Mariano was in the way, so Alvaro unceremoniously shoved him aside.

“How is he?” Alvaro demanded. 

The nurse blinked at Alvaro and Alvaro thought he was going to get snapped at again. “We stitched him up, but the anaesthesia hasn’t worn off so he’ll be sleeping for a few more hours. He probably won’t be able to use his left arm for a while. We managed to stop the bleeding fast enough, but he needed a minor transfusion. His vitals are back to normal and so are his blood cell counts.”

“Which ward is he in?” Mariano asked.

The nurse handed him a small card with the floor and room number. “He needs to stay for at least seventy-two hours for observation. We’ll put him under a special watch. You can wait there until the doctor comes to speak to you.”

Alvaro and Mariano took a completely silent trip up to the third floor.

Paulo’s room had a vertical window next to the door. Alvaro and Mariano peeked through it.

Paulo looked – he looked clean and peaceful. He was in a light green hospital gown, the white blanket tucked tightly around his chest and his IV-equipped good hand resting on top of it. His left arm was wrapped up and resting by his side. There was an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. 

A female nurse sat in a chair in the corner of the room.

“Oh my God,” Alvaro whispered at the sight, tears starting to fall from his eyes again. “He looks – he looks so –”

“Small,” Mariano finished for him.

Alvaro nodded. Paulo looked. He looked smaller than he already was.

“Do you think we can go inside?” Mariano asked.

The nurse didn’t chase them away when they opened the door. She just smiled. 

Alvaro stopped by Paulo’s bed. The sight of his chest rising and falling as he breathed was such a relief to Alvaro’s eyes that he almost fainted.

“He’s breathing,” Alvaro whispered, like that wasn’t obvious; it didn’t stop Alvaro from marveling at the fact.

Mariano chuckled softly. He sounded relieved, too. He wrapped his arm around Alvaro’s neck and hugged him close. “Yeah, he is.”

Alvaro sat down in the lone chair next to Paulo. He gently grasped Paulo’s hand; it was cold and sticky but it filled Alvaro with a kind of warmth he would never be able to describe in words. He pressed it against his cheek. The IV tube was freezing against Alvaro’s skin.

“Hello,” he whispered, tears spilling over on his cheeks. “Hi.”

Paulo’s chest continued to rise and fall.

“I’m so sorry,” Alvaro whispered, slowly running his finger down Paulo’s cheek. He carded his hand through Paulo’s hair. “I love you. So much. I wish you knew.”

Fifteen minutes later a doctor opened the door and gestured for them to go outside. Alvaro reluctantly stood up and followed Mariano.

“You can just call me Tomas,” he said. “How’re you two doing?”

Alvaro just nodded. Mariano said, “We’re not too bad.”

“Were you the ones who brought him in?”

“He was,” Mariano said, gesturing to Alvaro. “He – uh, he found him.”

“It must’ve been difficult,” Tomas said.

Alvaro nodded again.

“He’s stable for now,” Tomas said, the words coming as another relief for Alvaro even though he’d already heard them earlier. “Physically, he’s stable. As for the mental aspect, we have to wait for him to wake fully. The anaesthesia will wear off in a couple hours, but after something like that, he might not be fully conscious or aware until a few days have passed. We have to keep him here for observation, possibly even longer than the mandatory 72 hours.”

“Can we visit?” Mariano asked.

“Sure, but he’s on suicide watch,” Tomas said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means someone will be here to watch him 24/7. They’ll note his behaviours and make sure that he doesn’t try it again. His room has been carefully cleared of any possible dangerous objects and hard surfaces. I’ll link him up with a psychiatrist and together we’ll prescribe him with the necessary medication. Visitations will be limited to one hour in the afternoon and two hours in the evening. And the hospital staff will be present all the time.”

_ God _ , that sounded – for the lack of a better word – depressing.

“We’ll loosen up these conditions as time passes,” Tomas added.

“Thank you,” Mariano said. “When will you update us?”

“As soon as I can,” Tomas smiled encouragingly. “There’s a clipboard at the foot of his bed. It has the timing of our rounds. I’ll pop by during visiting hours, too.”

“Can we go inside now?” Alvaro asked, because despite all the information that Tomas was throwing at him, that was literally the only thing Alvaro could think about.

“Sure,” Tomas said slowly. “Just for this morning. Are either of you related to him?”

“I am,” Mariano volunteered. “I’m his brother.”

“I need you to sign some forms. No big deal, just to say that you understand what we’re doing for your brother.”

“You okay being alone for a while?” Mariano asked Alvaro.

Alvaro nodded. “I’ll be, um, inside.”

Mariano and Tomas disappeared down the corridor. Alvaro opened the door softly and sat down next to Paulo again. 

“Hi again,” he whispered, hooking his finger under Paulo’s sleeve and fiddling with it. “Hi. You’re so strong, Paulo. You’ve been so strong every single day of your life. I just – I need you to be strong right now, okay? I need – I can’t live without you, Pau. I hate that you don’t know that.”

Alvaro slid his hand under Paulo’s, loosely intertwining his fingers with Paulo’s.

“I love you,” he said. “I know we can’t be together but it doesn’t change that.”

And although Alvaro’s eyes hurt from all the stress and crying and lack of sleep, Alvaro didn’t want to close them for one second. He thought, foolishly, that if he closed them again, then the same thing would happen.

So Alvaro just did what he’d been doing for almost an entire month.

Alvaro sat and waited for Paulo to wake up.

\------

Japan seemed a little different after that call from Alvaro.

Franco became quiet.

Well, Franco was a quiet person in general, but. But he became quieter. More withdrawn. Even when the second call from Alvaro came, saying that Paulo’s condition was stable, that he wasn’t dead.

They were lucky that day when they made the trip to Mount Fuji. The sky was completely clear of clouds and the peak shone a pastel purple out of the low layer of fog, reflecting the sunlight. Isco and Franco saw it from across the lake, tagging along closely to a group of tourists whose guide spoke a language they understood. 

“It’s beautiful,” Isco said. The view was so breathtaking that Isco had almost forgotten that they were frolicking around in 40-degree weather. 

“Yeah,” Franco said softly.

“You okay?” Isco asked. “You’re very quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Franco smiled a tiny smile. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.”

Isco wondered if the sky was so clear because all the clouds were in Franco’s head.

“Are you still thinking about it?” Isco asked.

Franco shrugged. “It’s not something you just...stop thinking about.”

“Do you want to go back? We can probably get a flight.”

Franco shook his head. “No, I – Alvaro’s probably doing a great job. And you love this place. I wanna stay.”

“We don’t have to, you know? We don’t always have to go along with me.”

“I know.”

“And I know you’re worried about Paulo. I am, too. But he’s in good hands. When we get back, the first thing we’ll do is go to see him, okay?”

Franco nodded. He gazed out at the majestic mountain in front of them, almost sparkling in the daylight.

“Could you imagine?” he asked softly. “Finding someone like that?”

Isco had no answer for that.

“Could you imagine waking up one day and finding out someone you love is dead?”

“No,” Isco whispered. He couldn’t. He  _ didn’t want to _ .

“It’s just, we think of life as such a complicated thing, you know?” Franco continued. “Like the smallest thing we do or feel can do so much to the rest of it. Like how we feel, how we’re gonna feel, how other people feel, it’s all such a big deal. Everything’s such a big deal. But in reality, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Life is just –” Franco paused to snap his fingers. “– it could just end like that.”

Isco slid under Franco’s arm and held it tightly around himself. “I love you, Franco,” he whispered.

Franco kissed him on the top of his head. “Sorry I’m such a bummer.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you so much.”

Isco smiled. “Maybe we can call Alvaro, ask him how’s everything?”

“He called me a few hours ago. Probably nothing has changed.”

“Text him.”

So Franco texted him, and received a reply barely five minutes later even though it was two in the morning in Buenos Aires.

_ He’s still asleep. I’ve already told him that we all miss him very much.  _

It made Franco smile, so Isco was relieved. 

“Picture?” he asked. Franco obliged. They struggled to take a few nice selfies until a nice Japanese lady offered to help them. 

It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the city. Franco was quiet throughout the journey.

“Watcha thinking about?” Isco asked.

“Isn’t it weird?” Franco replied. “We were supposed to be here as four people. We planned things for four people. We didn’t think that – that one of us would just be...down.”

Isco had no answer to that.

Franco sighed, like he realised again that he was being a bummer.

“It’s just, life is so fragile,” he finished.

“Maybe we can shop around and see what we can bring back for the both of them,” Isco suggested. “I think Paulo would like that.”

Franco cheered up a whole lot after that. He kissed Isco’s head and took his and and dragged him all around Tokyo looking for gifts. 

Isco was convinced that there was some part of Franco that had been in love with Paulo for the longest time and just didn't know it. 

It was night when they got back to the hotel with all their bags. Isco got in the shower as Franco sorted through them.

He came back outside to see that Franco had dragged an armchair to the window and was sitting in it, watching the city go to sleep.

Isco pulled the other armchair next to him. He laid his towel over it and sat down.

Franco didn’t say a word.

“Can I ask you something?” Isco asked.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been in love with Paulo?”

Franco’s eyes remained fixed on the window. He had one leg bent, his foot resting on the chair; he fiddled with the spaces between his toes. 

“I don’t know,” he finally said.

A long, long silence. 

“I'd never been in love before I met you,” Franco whispered. 

“Do you think,” Isco swallowed audibly. “Maybe you just didn't know?”

“Maybe,” Franco said thoughtfully. “You wanna know what I really think?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I just really, really loved him and cared about him as a friend. And I think, ‘cause – ‘cause this was the only way I knew how to love someone. As a friend. And I still do that, now, because he still means the same to me. So I get that – that it might've come across that way. But I don't – I don't think I've ever been in love with him the same way I am with you.”

Isco smiled. He suddenly felt guilty that Franco had to defend himself to Isco, especially since there would be absolutely nothing wrong if Franco had said yes, and also they had already discussed this multiple times before. 

“I'm just asking,” Isco said softly. He took Franco’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “It's no big deal.”

Franco turned and smiled at Isco. “Yeah?”

Isco nodded. “And even if you've been, I'll understand.”

“You think?”

“Mmhmm. In fact I think you still love him very much.”

Franco chuckled. “I guess, yeah,” he said softly. “But like, not the way I love you.”

Isco smiled, wondering how many times Franco felt like he needed to say that. “Yeah, I know.”

“Like, I wouldn't marry him or anything.”

Isco burst into laughter. “I know you wouldn't,” he said. “Franco. You know how I told you there's many kinds of love?”

“Yeah?”

“I just feel like, with you, there's so many more types of love than just the usual types that I know and experience. I know when you think of being aro you think the opposite, ‘cause usually romantic love is the biggest kind of love. But I just think that. That you're so good at loving someone and that you know how to love people in so many different ways. So I just think. I think that yeah, you thought you were aromantic but it just seems a little bit counterintuitive to call you that.”

Franco gave Isco’s hair a ruffle. “What would you call me then?” he asked. 

“Hmm,” Isco said thoughtfully, leaning his cheek on Franco’s shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that he was clean and Franco was not. “I’d call you amazing.”

Franco smiled. He leaned over the armrests and pressed his lips softly on Isco’s. He tasted like he smelled; like the accumulation of their day, of sashimi and green tea and vaguely, car exhaust. His tongue worked Isco’s lips apart and his hands aided his cause, hooking under Isco’s ears and tilting his head for better access. Isco keened forward for more, clambering over the armrests and into Franco’s lap, straddling his thighs. 

“You wanna…” Isco murmured into Franco’s cheek. “Do you need…?

Franco sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “I mean,” he said reluctantly. “I guess it’s not so appropriate.”

Having sex while his best friend was dying seemed inappropriate. Isco got it.

But Isco also got that this was the only way Franco knew how to seek release from any sort of frustration he had. To Franco, sex wasn’t – it wasn’t just an act. It was a mental thing.

“It’s not like that,” Isco whispered. “You know it.”

Franco nodded. “Just doesn’t seem right.”

“Paulo would understand.”

“Yeah,” Franco smiled. “He would.”

“I get it if it’s not gonna happen, but if you need me,” Isco said softly, finger tracing the line of Franco’s beard. “I’m always here. And no one has to know.”

Franco pressed his lips on Isco’s again, and this time they were more relieved than hesitant. He slid his hand firmly up under Isco’s t-shirt.

Isco took it as a yes.

He felt every ounce of hurt, of worry, every gram of guilt that diffused out of Franco and disintegrated in what little space existed between the both of them. With every thrust, every sigh, every sharp exhale, Isco felt Franco become lighter. With every kiss. Every murmur of Franco’s lips on Isco’s skin sending vibrations up his spine. Every scrape of his soft finger pads on Isco’s scalp as he clawed his way to release.

Every time he stopped to gaze at Isco and whisper ‘I love you.’

They ended up in bed, Franco heaving for breath on top of Isco. His hands continued travelling softly down Isco’s jaw, his breaths settling as his lips slowly upturned against Isco’s.

Franco was so gentle.

In situations like the one they were in, Isco understood if sex was just  _ sex _ , to Franco. But Franco. Franco was still so soft and so kind and he still looked at Isco with the same loving gaze, like Isco was more than just an object to physically satisfy Franco’s frustrations. He still stayed, one part of his body always touching Isco, like Isco’s touch kept him calm, like  _ Isco  _ kept him calm, and not just the orgasm he’d had.

His hand remained on Isco’s chest when he rolled off. He curled up on his side and smiled when Isco turned his head. His hand moved up to cup Isco’s neck, fingers softly ruffling Isco’s beard. 

“Hi,” he smiled.

Isco smiled back at him. He was. He was so mesmerised by every inch of Franco’s face. He shimmied closer so their noses were touching.

“Thank you,” Franco whispered.

Isco broke into a grin. Franco was so  _ adorable _ . He still thought he needed to thank Isco after sex. He still thought he needed to thank Isco for  _ anything at all _ .

“I love you,” Isco said.

Franco smiled and he pressed his lips on Isco’s, and when he pulled away his eyes were closed peacefully.

“Do you want to go take a shower?” Isco asked, softly because Franco seemed to be rapidly drifting to sleep.

“Hmm,” Franco said sleepily.

“You’re dirty.”

“It’s our last night in Tokyo. We’re graduating from this bed tomorrow.”

Isco had no argument for that, so he crawled onto Franco’s chest and rested his cheek in the crook of Franco’s neck, where it always felt like it belonged. 

“I love you,” he whispered, because if life really was this fragile, Isco wanted to make sure Franco knew just this one thing.

“I love you, too,” Franco kissed him on the forehead. “Good night, love.”

Isco spent most of the night wondering why he’d ever even had the notion that Franco could be or had been in love with someone else.

\------

Paulo dreamt of his mom. 

She was holding his hand and smiling, and her smile. Her smile was like the brightest beacon of light Paulo had ever seen.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she said. She sounded warm but far away.

Paulo wished he could believe her.

\------

Paulo dreamt of his brothers and their families.

He thought about how nice it was that everyone came to say goodbye.

\------

Paulo dreamt of Alvaro.

He didn’t do anything. He didn’t say anything. 

He just sat there and smiled and he stroked Paulo’s hair.

It was the happiest dream Paulo had ever had.

\------

The first time Paulo was actually aware that he was awake, he thought the warm orange light above his head signified that he was in heaven.

It took him a while to realise that given everything he’d done in his life, he probably wouldn’t even be allowed near the gates.

Paulo sighed and rolled over, feeling a sharp pain in his left arm as he smashed it between his side and the mattress. He didn’t bother looking at it.

There was a man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He had a mint green and white uniform, so Paulo assumed he was a nurse. He smiled at Paulo. Paulo didn’t smile back.

He put his feet on the ground. There was a pair of white cloth slippers next to them. They looked worn. 

Paulo’s right hand was a little sore. He noticed a bruise on the back of it, so he guessed he’d been hooked up to some kind of tube before. 

Paulo looked around the room. It was small, almost suffocating. There was a TV in front of Paulo’s bed; it was turned on but muted. Paulo unmuted it.

Paulo was suddenly hit by how familiar this was all feeling, like he’d somehow done all of these exact things before. He stood up and his feet brought him to the bathroom.

Paulo stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a ghost.

He wondered why he wasn’t dead yet. He wondered why he couldn’t even do  _ dying  _ right.

Paulo glanced down at his arm. Maybe he’d done it wrong. Maybe he should’ve aimed higher. A bigger vein. 

He stepped closer to the mirror. There was one bulging vein in his neck.

His jugular. Maybe Paulo should’ve tried that. 

Maybe he could try that.

He ran his finger down the vein. It was easy to access. But one look around the bathroom revealed nothing sharp Paulo could pierce it with.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. It had a little square window on one side – though the reason behind that eluded Paulo – and the nurse peeked through it.

“Paulo, you have a visitor,” he said kindly.

Paulo was suddenly hyper-aware of the existence of other people besides himself.

He shuffled his way out of the bathroom. The slippers felt too big for his feet.

Alvaro was standing near the door, smiling eagerly at Paulo.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re awake.”

Paulo got back into bed. 

Alvaro sat down in the chair next to the bed. He handed Paulo a red rose. “I got you this,” he said.

He was practically shoving the rose into Paulo’s hand, so Paulo took it. All the thorns had been thoughtfully sliced off.

“I brought you one every day but you were always asleep when I came.”

Paulo glanced at the vase at his bedside that Alvaro was gesturing at. 

There were four red roses. Paulo had lost four days.

Alvaro took the rose from Paulo’s hand and put it with the others. 

“Your mom’s getting discharged today,” he said. “They allowed her out for a while so she came to visit you a few days ago.”

So it hadn’t been a dream. Paulo’s mom had really been there.

“How are you feeling?” Alvaro asked. His voice seemed to be getting softer every time he spoke.

Paulo didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how he was feeling. He didn’t really feel  _ anything _ .

“Why did you save me?” he heard himself ask.

Alvaro went quiet. He went quiet for a really, really long time.

“Because you deserve a better ending than this,” he finally said, quietly.

“You ever think that I don’t feel like I do?”

“But I know you do.”

“You don’t get the right to say that.”

“Neither do you, Paulo.”

“You ever think for even one second that I don’t want to be saved?”

Alvaro went quiet again. Then he said, lips trembling like he didn’t want to believe it, “No.”

“I don’t. I don’t want to be saved, I don’t want to be  _ here _ but now I  _ still am _ , and you don’t get to do things like that. You don’t get to just – just assume you know what I want. You don’t get to make decisions for me just ‘cause you think you know what I want and what I need.  _ You don’t _ . This isn’t what I want. It’s what  _ you _ want and you were being fucking selfish, Alvaro, because now I’m still here and it’s your fault.”

“I’m being selfish?” Alvaro demanded. “ _ I’m  _ being selfish? So you think that going ahead and killing yourself isn’t  _ selfish _ ? Did you even think about what I’d feel? What everyone would feel if they learnt that you were gone? You think that doing this only affects you, that by killing yourself you’d be happy. But what about us? What about everything and everyone you leave behind? Did you think about that? Don’t call  _ me  _ selfish, Paulo.”

Paulo closed his eyes as tears fell out of them. He was so tired. He didn’t want to argue with his Alvaro. He just wanted to sleep.

“I found you on the floor, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. “Covered with your own blood. Do you think I’ll ever forget that? Do you think – do you think I’ll ever recover from that? I see it – I see you every time I close my eyes. I think about how – how close I was to losing you forever. I think about how if I’d even been one minute later, then maybe you wouldn’t even be here anymore. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this. I don’t think I will ever be able to think of anything else.”

“Why did you save me?” Paulo sobbed. “You didn’t have the right. You don’t have the right to decide if I get to die.”

“ _ Neither do you _ ,” Alvaro said again, and this time he sounded. He sounded angry. “What about your family? What about the people who’ve watched you grow up for twenty eight years? Don’t they have the right? The people who’ve slogged it out for you every single day for the last twenty eight years. They’ve watched you grow and they’ve wished for your happiness and health every single day. Don’t they get the right? What about – what about  _ me _ ? Don’t I get the right? For loving you – loving you since the first day I met you. Don’t we all get the right to want to save you because we all love you so much and our lives would be  _ nothing _ without you? Don’t we get the right to try and make you feel like you can be saved, that you should want to be saved? Don’t we get – get to give you what we think you deserve from us?  _ You  _ don’t have the right, Paulo, because you don’t know. You don’t have  _ any idea  _ what you mean to us. You don’t get to just. Just take yourself away from us.  _ You don’t _ .”

Paulo lied down on his side, smashing his arm again but not really caring because he just couldn’t  _ look  _ at Alvaro anymore. He crossed his arms in front of him and squeezed his eyes shut, willing Alvaro to stop boring holes in Paulo’s back with his fiery stare and just. Just go away and leave Paulo alone. Paulo didn’t want to be saved. Paulo just wanted to  _ die  _ and he wished that Alvaro would just  _ let him _ .

“After these twelve years,” Alvaro said softly. “Don’t I get the right to wanna save you?”

Paulo didn’t answer him. He didn’t have the energy and – and he didn’t  _ want  _ to. He just wanted Alvaro to go away. He just wanted to – to close his eyes and never have to open them again.

Alvaro sat there silently for the longest time. 

The clock on the wall struck two pm when the nurse informed Alvaro that visiting time was over.

Paulo heard Alvaro stand up. He felt the weight of the blanket as Alvaro draped it over him.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Alvaro whispered, and he sounded like he was crying.

The door clicked shut and the room became completely quiet. 

Paulo slept.

\------

Alvaro came again the next day with another red rose. 

He didn’t greet Paulo verbally. He just walked up to the chair by Paulo’s bed and turned it towards the TV, on which Paulo was watching a documentary about camels. Then he sat in it and watched with Paulo. 

Paulo knew he was angry. Paulo was angry, too, both with Alvaro and with himself. 

Alvaro’s eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the TV when Paulo turned to look at him. His arms were crossed and he was pouting ever so slightly. 

But at least he was there.

Even if he didn’t say a word. Even if Paulo didn’t say a word, because he simply didn’t feel like talking. Even if they’d just had a fight twenty four hours before. 

At least he was there, right next to Paulo. 

Paulo felt like Alvaro had more in him. He had more in him to continue the argument he’d had the previous day with Paulo, but he just wasn’t letting it out. Maybe he thought that Paulo wouldn’t be able to take it. Maybe he thought he needed to tread softly around Paulo, at least for the time being. 

Paulo wished he wasn’t this weak.

He flipped through the channels until he found one that was playing a rerun of a Premier League game from the season that had just passed. He left it on as a peace offering.

Alvaro didn’t budge. He didn’t react whatsoever, though his eyes darted across the screen with the ball.

Paulo had a sudden urge to reach over and hold Alvaro’s hand.

But he was afraid Alvaro would be angry, that Alvaro would push him away. He was afraid that the fight they’d had – that it would last forever.

So instead, he just sat there and tried not to cry.

At two pm sharp, Alvaro got up and left the room without a word.

Paulo muted the TV and went to sleep.

\------

The next three days passed like clockwork. 

Paulo awoke naturally at nine in the morning to a bland porridge breakfast. He would swallow it laboriously and wait for a nurse to clear his dishes before he got up and went to the bathroom.

He would spend the next thirty minutes staring at his jugular vein in the mirror, willing it to spontaneously combust.

Then his own personal nurse would take him downstairs for a walk even though Paulo showed no willingness to do it at all. They would circle the hospital garden twice before going to the cafeteria, where Paulo would be watched while he tried to swallow half of his lunch.

When he got back to his room, it would be visiting time and Alvaro would be there with a fresh rose. They would sit and watch TV together, silently, like  they both knew that Alvaro's presence was all Paulo needed and that Alvaro was going to continue coming even though he had nothing to do there as long as Paulo didn't chase him away.

By the third day, Paulo was quite sure their fight had ended in a silent truce. 

Paulo had tons of free time in the afternoon. He mostly spent it sleeping. Sometimes he tried to read a book or watch TV. 

The nurses at Paulo’s bedside rotated throughout the day and night. Once, one of them brought Paulo a thick colouring book and a set of blunt crayons. 

She didn't say it, but Paulo knew it was Alvaro who had made her bring them. 

There was a two-hour evening visiting slot. Paulo’s family and friends came to visit. Alvaro never came. It seemed to be a prior arrangement that Alvaro got Paulo for one hour and the others got him for two. 

Paulo was so  _ happy  _ to see his mother. 

She was so thin, her fingers were practically just skin on bones. But Paulo held on to them as tightly as he could without crushing them, and he didn't let go for two hours. The two hours passed at lightning speed with Paulo’s mom sitting next to him in bed, telling him about her day. 

The nights were particularly quiet. 

The nights strikingly reminded Paulo that he didn’t have a phone or any contact with the outside world. 

Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, sweating, the incriminating dream already forgotten. He would lie down and stare at the ceiling until the ticking of the clock sent him back to sleep. 

Paulo awoke naturally at nine in the morning to a bland porridge breakfast.

\------

On the fourth day, a doctor came to see Paulo.

Paulo had been visited by doctors before. They came by during their rounds and they perused Paulo’s clipboard and took his temperature and blood pressure. 

But this doctor was different.

This doctor wanted to  _ talk _ .

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Can you give me something that would make me die?” Paulo asked.

She blinked in surprise at the directness of Paulo’s words. “Why do you want to die?” she asked slowly.

Paulo didn’t answer her. He just wanted the stuff. 

“Let’s start over, okay?” she said, with a soft patient sigh. “My name is Marie.”

Paulo didn’t answer that either. 

“Can you tell me why you’re here?” she asked, gesturing to Paulo’s arm to guide him.

“I tried to kill myself,” Paulo said softly.

“And why did you do that?”

Her voice was soft and kind and she never turned away from Paulo, even when she was speaking. She didn’t give up even when Paulo ignored her. She was so warm and Paulo just felt like he wanted to tell her everything. 

“I’m just –” Paulo shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Not worth it.”

“You don’t think you’re worth anything to this world?” Marie asked. “Did anyone tell you that?”

Paulo shook his head. “Just. Just feels that way.”

“Did anyone do anything to make you feel that way?”

Paulo shook his head. Then he said, “I don’t know,” because he realised he didn’t know.

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo sobbed. “I don’t remember.”

He didn’t remember when it started. In fact, he didn’t even remember a day he actually felt like he was worth something, that he could do what he wished to do, that he wasn’t just a lump of useless meat that no one would ever be proud of.

“Can you tell me about the boy who comes to visit you every afternoon?”

“Alvi?” Paulo wiped his cheeks sloppily. “He’s – he’s my – my friend.”

“He’s just your friend?”

“He’s my – uh, my ex-boyfriend.”

“When did that happen?”

“Just – I don’t know, just right before this. What date is it?”

“The 8th of July.”

“Maybe...maybe just a little less than a month ago.”

“But he visits you every day.”

“We don’t talk.”

“He talks to the nurses about you all the time.”

Paulo dipped his head to gaze at his own hands. “It’s just –” he said. He shrugged, not knowing how to continue.

“Why did you break up?” she asked.

Paulo didn’t know how to answer that. It was the first question that he really, desperately wanted to answer, but he had nothing to say.

“He found me,” Paulo finally said, crying softly. “I mean, that’s not why we broke up. But he found me, on the – on the bathroom floor, and. And I just. I wish he hadn’t. Because he – he  _ saved  _ me and I don’t – I don’t want to be here. I wish he hadn’t found me. I wish he hadn’t seen me. Because now he’s gonna have to live with it for the rest of his life and I –  _ I’m  _ gonna have to live with it, and. I wish that – that I’d succeeded, you know? I wish I was dead. But I’m not. And we had a fight about it the moment I woke up and I called him selfish and he called me selfish and – he still comes, every single day, and sits with me. He doesn’t talk to me but he sits with me and – and that’s enough for me. I know he’s mad at me. I know he’s afraid to be mad at me but he is. And I just wish that. I wish that things weren’t like this.”

“Do you still love him?”

Paulo closed his eyes. He didn’t – he  _ couldn’t  _ feel anything, any emotion, but if there was one thing he was sure there was a remnant twinge of, it was his never-ending love for his Alvaro. 

“With all my heart,” he whispered. “I just – I don’t want him to blame himself.”

“We’ll have to talk about this more next time, okay?” Marie said softly. “We need to talk about this.”

Paulo nodded.

“What about your family?” Marie asked kindly. 

“They come to see me every day, too.”

“Don’t you feel that they love you very much, too?”

Paulo nodded. “I just – I keep letting them down.”

“I don’t think they feel that way.”

Paulo shrugged. He opened his eyes and the room seemed just a tiny bit brighter.

Marie watched him for a while, even though he wasn’t really doing anything but crying.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” she finally asked.

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Okay,” she smiled. She pulled out a piece of paper and put it in front of Paulo, together with a pen. “I need you to fill this up really honestly, okay? You can take as long as you want. I just need it to be truthful.”

It was a questionnaire of about fifteen questions asking about Paulo’s mood and outlook, and a part about his family history with mental illness. Paulo found just enough strength to grip the pen and fill it out. 

It only took Marie one glance at the filled questionnaire for her to say to Paulo, “We’ll start you on some medication, okay?”

Paulo didn’t know how to respond to that.

“How long do I have to be here?” he asked.

“Until you’re better,” Marie smiled. “And you’ll get better.”

Then she left and Paulo got out his book and crayons, colouring in a picture of a garden. He tried to use the edges of the crayons so they would get naturally sharpened. 

It seemed to Paulo that they would never get sharp enough for his liking.

\------

On the fifth day, Paulo got his stitches out. 

Alvaro was there when the procedure was done. He stood by Paulo’s bed and watched, even though Paulo knew it was creeping him out watching the tweezers and the stitches coming out. 

Even though he was probably reliving every moment of the night he found Paulo.

Paulo’s arm still felt – it felt incomplete. It hurt when Paulo clenched his fist.

The doctor gave him a little red stress ball to exercise his arm with. He told Paulo not to strain his arm too much, that they would arrange some therapy sessions for him until he got his strength back. He gave Paulo a few rolls of compression bandage and told him to wrap his arm up when he was using it. 

Alvaro stayed behind when the doctor and nurses left. Well, Alvaro and Paulo’s designated nurse on rotation, whose presence by now Paulo was already used to and had tuned out.

Alvaro sat down quietly.

Paulo stared at the TV, the ball held loosely in his bad hand. 

It had been a busy morning, so Paulo started to doze off. He gave the stress ball a few light squeezes, feeling the tenderness in his arm.

He closed his eyes and the ball fell from his loosened grip, bouncing over his thighs and onto the floor on Alvaro’s side of the bed.

Alvaro stared at it.

Paulo was suddenly wide awake, his heart pounding for no reason he could fathom. 

Alvaro bent over in his chair and picked the ball up. He placed it in Paulo’s upturned hand, his fingers brushing against Paulo’s.

It was the first physical touch they’d shared for over a week. 

It sent a buzz through Paulo’s body, finally something that felt familiar to him, from his old life that now seemed so far away. 

It left Paulo with the realisation that he needed more than just that millisecond. 

So Paulo dropped the ball again.

And this time, when Alvaro put it in his hand, Paulo grabbed, held on, and didn’t let go.

Alvaro didn’t seem perturbed – in fact, he seemed the opposite. He didn’t look at Paulo, but he watched their hands as Paulo intertwined their fingers. The corners of his lips twitched upwards a little as he gave Paulo’s hand a soft squeeze. He slowly turned to look at Paulo, their eyes eventually locking. 

Paulo tugged on Alvaro’s hand.

He had to shimmy aside to make room when Alvaro climbed into the bed next to him. It was a squeeze and the bed started creaking but Paulo. As Paulo tucked his head under Alvaro’s arm he felt a sense of completeness that he hadn’t felt in eons. And all he wanted, all Paulo wanted was to tell Alvaro he was sorry and that he loved Alvaro more than Alvaro could ever imagine. 

Instead, he just sat there like the useless slab of meat he was.

Alvaro’s grasp was firm and warm, like they hadn’t ever been apart for a single day. He propped his chin on top of Paulo’s head and Paulo. Paulo was so completely at peace. Even though neither of them had said a word and it looked to Paulo like neither of them were  _ going to  _ say a word for a long time. Paulo felt so peaceful.

Paulo closed his eyes and fell asleep easily. 

When he woke up, the clock on the wall read four pm and Alvaro was gone. 

Paulo was lying down in bed, his stress ball on the bedside table and his arm wrapped up in a layer of compression bandage. Next to him was a new, really large penguin soft toy.

“He bought it for you from the gift shop,” Paulo’s nurse called out helpfully.

Paulo hugged it close. Hung around its neck was a red ribbon and a little card containing nothing but a hand-drawn red heart and the letter A.

Paulo lay in bed awake for the rest of the evening, smiling to himself.

\------

On the sixth day, Paulo was diagnosed with depression. 

Alvaro, Mariano, and Paulo’s mom were there – well, it was supposed to be just Alvaro, but the hospital didn’t want to reveal the diagnosis without a family member present, so Mariano had to be there. And then Paulo’s mom tagged along with him when she heard. 

The silence was heavy as Marie read the diagnosis and the ways the hospital could help, followed by how Paulo’s family could help. Mom and Mariano listened attentively, but Alvaro.

All Paulo could look at was Alvaro.

The pained expression on his face grew with every word Marie spoke. He didn’t look at Paulo, nor at Marie or anyone else – he fixed his gaze on this one spot on the floor in front of him, and he kicked at it with the front of his sneaker like he couldn’t bear to be still while listening. Like the rage he was feeling would tear him apart if he didn’t try to at least channel it somewhere. 

Paulo’s 24/7 surveillance was reduced to just a check-in every hour in the day and constant surveillance at night. Visitation, on the other hand, was extended to twelve consecutive hours starting from nine in the morning. Paulo still couldn’t leave the room without a nurse by his side.

Marie and the nurse left after putting a little cup of three pills and a bottle of water on the table at the foot of Paulo’s bed. Paulo took the cup and rolled it around, watching the pills move.

Alvaro excused himself to the bathroom. 

Paulo stared at the bathroom door, with its tiny privacy-invoking window, until Mariano startled him out of his daydream by handing him the bottle of water and asking him to take his pills.

Paulo swallowed them but it felt like they were lodged in his throat and would never travel further into his body.

Neither Mariano nor his mom stopped him as he got out of bed and wandered to the bathroom. 

He pushed open the door and there Alvaro was, squatting on the floor between the door and the toilet, leaning against the white tiled wall. He looked. He looked sick to the stomach. And he was crying, even though he made the effort to wipe his tears when he saw Paulo.

Paulo squatted next to him and took his hand.

It was Paulo’s good hand, so Alvaro held on tight with both hands, one of them slowly stroking up and down Paulo’s forearm, like he just  _ needed to know  _ Paulo was  _ real  _ and he was  _ there. _

“You take your medicine?” he asked softly; the first four words he’d spoken to Paulo in an entire week.

Paulo flashed him the empty plastic cup he was suddenly aware he was still holding.

Alvaro smiled. He lifted a hand to stroke Paulo’s unwashed hair. Tears started rolling down his cheeks again and he hung his head so Paulo wouldn’t see them.

“I –” he started, his voice so thick it got trapped in his throat. “I – um. I have to go,” he whispered. “Sorry.”

He stood up, gave the top of Paulo’s head a kiss, and left, looking no less anguished than he did when the day had started.

Paulo sat on the floor staring at his little cup.

Paulo wished he was dead.


	9. Is This What You Want? Is This What You Need?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from The Last Song by The All-American Rejects.

Paulo’s tenth day was a little different.

His family spent most of the available visitation time hanging out in Paulo’s room, taking him to the cafeteria, or just sitting outside in the corridor so Paulo knew they were near. Alvaro was there, too, all the time, even though he hovered on the edges. He was always the first one to make sure Paulo swallowed his pills and ate his food. Paulo suspected Alvaro might have been spending some nights outside on the chairs.

Paulo realised he didn’t even know where Alvaro was spending his nights.

Anyway, on Paulo’s tenth day, no one appeared at 9am like Paulo had expected. Instead, at eleven, Gustavo was the only one who appeared at the door, with a nurse. He handed Paulo a set of clothes and a pair of sneakers.

“C’mon, kid,” he smiled. “Get changed.”

“Where are we going?” Paulo asked.

“Somewhere nice,” Gustavo said.

Paulo pulled on the black t-shirt and grey jeans, followed by the shoes, which Gustavo kindly helped him tie. He helped Paulo wrap on a layer of compression bandage and put on a hoodie because even though Paulo had been protected from the rain and shine for half a month, it was still winter outside the bleak hospital walls.

They brought him down to the hospital garden – but not where Paulo always made his rounds. It turned out that the garden was much bigger than Paulo had noticed. Gustavo led him to the far end and under a natural bush arch, beyond which there was a barbeque pit and some picnic benches to the side of a small grass plain.

Paulo’s family was there.

And Paulo’s friends.

And his Alvaro.

 _Everyone_ was there, and there were food and drinks and silver and blue balloons tied to the tables, and everyone turned when Paulo appeared and gave a very unsynchronised ‘hi.’

Paulo smiled.

The act of it felt like the sound the hinges of an old wardrobe door made when it was being opened.

“Whose birthday is it?” Paulo asked.

“No one’s,” Gustavo said, smiling. “Just celebrating your existence, kid.”

He gave Paulo a soft slap on the back and headed right into the crowd.

Paulo took a few steps forward but was stopped by a tiny golden figure bounding towards him the best she could with her tiny legs, grass and soil flying up at her heels. She ground to a halt in front of Paulo, plopping her butt down and smiling at him.

“Hi,” Paulo chuckled, squatting down and rubbing her head. “Hey. How are you? You're so big. You've grown so big. Good girl.”

“Winnie!” Paulo heard a female voice yell, followed by Marta running after Winnie. She stopped when she saw that Winnie had only found Paulo and hadn't escaped somewhere else, and she walked towards them and squatted across from Paulo. “Hey, Paulito.”

“Hi,” Paulo smiled.

“Sorry it took me so long to come see you.”

“It’s okay.”

“My parents are here too.”

Paulo nodded.

Silence except for Winnie’s soft panting.

“I taught her how to sit,” Marta said, voice getting softer. It seemed to be a pattern among most people, Paulo realised, whenever Paulo didn't respond to them, like they were scared that Paulo didn't want to talk.

Paulo nodded again. “You – you've been taking care of her?”

“Mmhmm. In Madrid.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said.

Marta smiled and it was the softest, most sincere smile. She shimmied a few steps closer to Paulo and wrapped him up in a hug while they were both still squatting.

“I'm so happy to see you,” she whispered.

Paulo just. Paulo melted into her arms. “Thank you for coming,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Marta said. “As long – as long as you're happy.”

Paulo didn't know if he was.

But on that day, after half a week of regular medication, mandated therapy starting in a couple of days, and _seeing all his friends and family gathered just for him_ \- Paulo thought maybe he was on his way there.

Marta left Paulo alone with Winnie, so Paulo lifted her in his arms and walked towards the scattered crowd. He stopped by several groups of friends to greet them and thank them for coming. He felt strangely energized. He credited it to the abundance of greenery around him.

He had just put Winnie on the ground and nudged her in the direction of Marta when he saw Franco.

He was holding two plastic cups of punch balanced on two paper plates of samosas, probably for him and Isco, if Isco was around. Fortunately, he was standing right next to a table, because Paulo charged right at him and he was sure that if the table hadn’t been there, Franco would’ve just dropped everything on the ground to hug Paulo.

“Hi,” Paulo whispered into the front of his shirt.

“Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again,” were the first words Franco said to him.

Paulo started crying.

He wasn’t sure why he was crying. But Franco’s arms were so tight and warm and they were the first pair of arms that had ever made Paulo feel like he belonged somewhere, so he thought the relief of his happier past rushing in at him – that must’ve been it. Paulo had – Paulo had never loved Franco the way he loved Alvaro, but he was sure that he would have, if the circumstances had been different. Franco was. Franco was just something else, something way beyond a friend. Franco was always there for him.

“How’re you feeling?” Franco asked softly, his hand slowly running down Paulo’s hair. “You okay?”

Paulo nodded.

“You know we –” Franco said, voice catching in his throat. “We all love you very much. Yeah? You know that? You know that – that Alvaro loves you very, very much.”

Paulo nodded again.

“You want something to eat?” Franco asked, pulling away sniffling and blinking so his tears wouldn’t fall. He picked up one of the plates he’d been holding earlier. “You want these?”

“It’s okay. They’re for Isco.”

“I’ll share mine with you,” Franco said.

Paulo grabbed a samosa by its edge. “I’ll just have one.”

Franco beamed at him. “You’re gonna be so great, Dybala.”

Paulo loved that he thought so.

“How are you?” Paulo asked.

“Not too bad,” Franco smiled. “We got loads of stuff for you guys from Japan.”

“Thank you.”

“Alvaro said to wait for you to open them together.”

Paulo smiled. “Okay.”

A short silence.

“You wanna sit down, or something?” Franco asked.

Paulo shook his head. “Where’s Isco? I wanna say hi.”

Franco gestured to a bench, where Isco was sitting with Alvaro. Isco was speaking but Alvaro seemed to be only interested in Paulo; he was watching Paulo and Franco and he gave a little smile and wave when he saw Paulo turning.

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” Paulo asked. “Alvi.”

“About?”

“For what – what I did.”

“I don’t know,” Franco said softly, in a tone that suggested that he _did_ know.

“I think he’s still mad at me,” Paulo whispered. “He still thinks that – that I’m selfish. Do you think I was being selfish?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean that,” Franco said gently.

“He does,” Paulo sobbed. “Alvi – Alvi never says anything that he doesn’t mean. He keeps things sometimes but – but everything he says, he always means it.”

“Why don’t you talk to him? You guys haven’t spoken in two weeks, have you?”

Paulo shook his head, momentarily forgetting to wonder how Franco even knew that. “I don’t know, I just – I keep thinking I’m gonna let him down again.”

“Look at it this way,” Franco said. “Even if he _is_ mad...he’s here, isn’t he? He comes to see you and he takes care of you, and he’s constantly bothering the nurses about you. He’s always by your side while everyone is trying to fix you, while everyone, including yourself, thinks you’re broken. He _knows_ you’re broken. But he’s here, he’s doing all this despite being angry. It shows exactly how much he loves you. That he’s willing to put aside all of this and care for you like his life depends on it. In fact, I think it does.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whimpered, his voice breaking.

“C’mere,” Franco said, wrapping Paulo and his half-eaten samosa in a tight hug. “Don’t be sad, okay? I mean – I know that’s a really stupid thing to say. But I’m not really good at this, I just. I just want you to know that we all care for you very much and we’ll never give up on you, okay? Dybala?”

Paulo nodded.

Franco just. Just hugged him tight for a really long time, gently swaying side to side. He murmured some words but Paulo didn’t really hear them.

“Can I talk to Isco for a while?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Franco said hesitantly, but not like he didn’t want Paulo to talk to Isco and more like he was just wondering why.

He picked up both his plates and gestured for Paulo to follow him to the bench. Alvaro smiled again as they approached, this time less brightly than before.

Everyone was surprised when Franco asked Alvaro to go with him.

“Me?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah,” Franco said.

“Why?”

“Will you just come with me?”

A brief staring contest.

Alvaro stood up and followed Franco a few steps before he was startled by Franco suddenly stopping and holding one of the plates out for Alvaro. Alvaro took it hesitantly.

Paulo sat down next to Isco.

“Hey,” Isco said softly. When Paulo turned to him, he was beaming like the sun.

“Hi,” Paulo said.

“How’re you feeling?” Isco asked.

Paulo was frankly so fucking tired of that question.

He just shrugged.

Isco sat there quietly. It seemed terribly uncharacteristic of him and Paulo briefly felt guilty for making him go completely quiet like that.

“Tell me something,” Paulo said.

“Yeah?” Isco asked.

“Something,” Paulo whispered, hanging his head so Isco wouldn’t see him cry. “Just anything. You always know what to say.”

Isco was quiet for a little while longer.

“I think what you have to know is,” Isco began softly. “That you’re very, very strong. I think you often forget that. But everyone can see that. Everyone knows that. And I know that it would be very shallow of me to say that I know what you’re going through, because I don’t, and I never might. But I think it wouldn’t be too far-fetched of me to say that I do understand what you feel, to some extent, however small it might be. We’ve had this conversation many times before, haven’t we? About not feeling like you’ll ever be enough. But what we forget is – what we forget is that we don’t get to decide that. The people we’re giving ourselves to – they get to decide that. And what they decide is – is less biased than what we decide, isn’t it? Everyone expresses their love and gratitude in different ways. We can’t tell sometimes. But just – just look around you today. All these people made the trip down here to see you, with just three or four days’ notice. You mean so much to them. All these people that you’ve gathered around you, that you’ve called your friends and family for all the years of your life – you kept them for a reason. And they kept you for a reason. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

And this. This was why Paulo loved talking to Isco.

Well, not talking to Isco as much as he loved listening to Isco talk. It was the reason why on that day, and on several other days when he was thinking ugly thoughts, he knew that as strange as it seemed, in the whole world, only Isco would be able to make him feel better.

Paulo turned to Isco and Isco was smiling the most genuine smile.

“Yeah?” Isco whispered. He placed his hand on Paulo’s and gave it a squeeze, then tilted his chin in the direction where Franco and Alvaro had headed earlier. “Hey, look. While I am very happy and very honoured that you chose me instead of the other two, I just want you to look at how much they love you. So much that they can’t take their eyes off you.”

Paulo turned around and Franco and Alvaro were just standing there, about five meters away, empty plates and cups in their hands, and leering at Paulo and Isco. They pretended not to be looking when they spotted Paulo staring at them.

Paulo turned back to Isco with a smile.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Isco said softly. “It’s gonna seem like a long way, but you’re gonna be okay, Paulo.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think – you think Alvi is still mad at me?” Paulo asked. Because he just. He just needed to _know_.

“I don’t know,” Isco said, in the same tone Franco had said it in earlier.

“I mean, he called me selfish, and I – I know, I know that I was, but. But part of me still thinks that he was, too, you know? That he was just as selfish as I was. ‘Cause he’s making me do something even though I don’t wanna do it, just ‘cause _he_ thinks that it’s the right thing. Because he thinks it’s what everyone wants.”

“It _is_ what everyone wants, Paulo.”

“I know, but – but I just. I know I was – I just. I didn’t wanna live anymore.”

“I know, honey,” Isco whispered, wrapping his arms around Paulo and pulling him close. “I know. And I get why you feel that he was being selfish.”

“Yeah?”

“But it’s over now, yeah? That part of the story, now it’s finished. And you’re here with us and – Paulo, I just want you to know one thing.”

“What?”

“That I’m very happy that I get to see you today and tell you that I love you so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And if it had been too late on that day, if they hadn’t managed to save you, I – I wouldn’t be mad at Alvaro, I wouldn’t be mad at you, and I wouldn’t be mad at anyone. I would just be really, really sad because I would miss you more than my heart could take.”

“Thank you,” Paulo sobbed.

“'Course. You're my favourite. Don't tell the other two.”

Paulo smiled.

Alvaro approached with the now very familiar transparent plastic cup with Paulo’s multicoloured pills.

“Time for these,” he said softly, handing them to Paulo together with a cup of water.

Paulo swallowed them one by one. The blue, the pink, and then the white, just like he did thrice every day.

When he was done, Isco was gone and Alvaro was sitting in his place.

Paulo wasn't sure what to say to him.

It came as a little of a surprise, Paulo having the world to say to Franco and Isco but absolutely no words for his Alvaro.

But part of him knew that after everything that had happened between them, everything that had taken the place of words, that Paulo had exhausted everything he ever had or would ever have to say to Alvaro.

But Paulo desperately wished that wasn't true.

He desperately wished that he could say the words he didn't have to, but _wanted to_ , with a desire so burning hot it could kill him. He desperately wished that he could tell Alvaro he loved him with all his heart and that was a permanent fact of the universe.

But he knew that if he tried to keep Alvaro by his side, if he unintentionally destroyed Alvaro to the point where Alvaro became as broken as Paulo was – that was when Paulo could truly call himself selfish.

So he didn't say a word.

Paulo was distractedly bending his plastic cups noisily into several different shapes when Winnie came trotting over again, leaping up into Paulo’s lap.

Paulo missed her. She reminded him of a terrible time but Paulo missed her.

She gave him kisses all over his face like she was trying to tell him she missed him too.

“She recognises you,” Alvaro said softly.

Paulo smiled at him and he could _feel_ Alvaro’s bones settle.

“How've you been?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro seemed mildly surprised at the question.

“Good,” he said slowly, then corrected himself. “Just...okay.”

Paulo smiled. He pressed down softly on Winnie’s head as she closed her eyes, her tiny butt sinking into the space between Paulo and Alvaro and her snoot resting on Paulo’s thigh. Her tail thumped lazily on Alvaro’s leg.

“You?” Alvaro asked.

As much as Paulo was tired of hearing that question, having it come from Alvaro was a totally different experience.

Alvaro’s questions, Paulo always wanted to answer.

Even if the only answer he could give was a shrug and a soft mumble of ‘just like this.’

Alvaro placed his hand on Winnie’s back, letting it rise and fall with her quick breaths.

It was dangerously close to Paulo’s, like Alvaro had intended it; like Alvaro wanted to hold Paulo’s hand but was afraid Paulo didn’t want it, so he was waiting for Paulo to make his move.

Paulo gently put his hand on top of Alvaro’s.

Alvaro visibly relaxed. Paulo didn’t turn to him, but he felt Alvaro’s hand loosen under his. He gave it a soft squeeze.

Paulo let his thoughts paint the fifteen-minute silence between them.

He was interrupted by his mom, who appeared in front of him and took his free hand, saying, “Come hang out with us for a while.”

Paulo wondered who ‘us’ consisted of. He didn’t ask.

He turned to Alvaro and Alvaro was smiling earnestly at him. He shifted Winnie’s sleepy head onto his own lap.

Paulo followed his mom to a picnic bench where Gustavo, Mariano, and Alvaro’s parents were gathered.

“How’re you feeling?” Alvaro’s dad asked.

Paulo sighed, but. But he didn’t want to be rude. Plus, the sight of Alvaro’s dad made him want to cry, for some reason.

“Better,” Paulo said.

“That’s good,” Alvaro’s mom smiled. “Sorry we didn’t come earlier. Alvaro didn’t tell us anything. He didn’t even tell us Alicia was in hospital.”

“He probably just didn’t want you to worry,” Gustavo said.

The conversation continued around Paulo. A plate appeared in front of him, with a grilled hamburger and some lettuce on the side. Paulo took the burger apart into its layers with the plastic fork and jabbed at the patty, watching the oil slowly soak into the paper plate.

“What’s up?” Mariano nudged Paulo out of his daydream.

Paulo shook his head, but everyone at the table seemed to suddenly be looking at him.

“Maybe he needs a hug from his dad,” Alvaro's dad said, and he was suddenly standing in front of Paulo even though Paulo hadn't noticed him getting up.

Paulo had been getting so many hugs that he was beginning to feel like no amount of hugs in the world would ever be able to fix him again, but.

But he stood up and he hugged Alvaro’s dad, and it felt like hugging his own dad, and for the briefest moment Paulo felt whole again.

“You know we all believe in you, yeah?” Alvaro’s dad whispered, like it was just for Paulo's ears. “Me, your moms, your brothers, Marta, your dad. We all believe in you. And Alvaro. My Alvaro has been smitten with you since he met you. He's never, ever, even for one second, imagined giving up on you. Never. Okay?”

Paulo nodded. “Thank you.”

“And we’re all gonna do our best to make sure you feel better soon, okay?”

He was the first person Paulo had spoken to that referred to Paulo’s condition as a way Paulo felt rather than a disease Paulo had. Everyone else wanted Paulo to get better. Alvaro’s dad wanted him to feel better.

Paulo knew it was less accurate, but Paulo liked it more. It was more personal.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro's dad mumbled. He pulled away to examine Paulo’s cheeks. “You're gonna have to eat more because I want to see you healthy and happy.”

“Okay,” Paulo said obediently.

“And so we all have more of you to hug and love.”

Paulo smiled. “I'll have a burger.”

Alvaro’s father smiled. “Good boy.”

Paulo sat with his burger as people flitted by. Soon his mom and Alvaro’s parents went away, and some of Paulo’s cousins came by. They were followed by a small group of Paulo’s friends from Instituto. Mariano and Gustavo stayed next to Paulo the entire time.

Alvaro didn’t come by.

“Hey,” Paulo said, tugging on Gustavo’s elbow when there was a break in visits. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

“It wasn’t us, kiddo,” Mariano said from Gustavo’s other side.

Gustavo smiled. “It was Alvaro,” he said. “But I’m sure you’re very welcome.”

“Oh,” Paulo whispered. For some reason, that revelation made him want to cry.

“Are you two, you know,” Gustavo shrugged a shoulder. “Back together? I mean, sometimes...sometimes I see you, like, holding hands.”

“We’re not –” Paulo sighed. “I don't – I don't really know.”

“Okay,” Gustavo said softly. He didn't pursue the topic.

Paulo sat quietly until dusk fell upon them and everyone had to leave.

He would’ve given anything to stay outside with all his friends and family, but alas, his hospital room beckoned.

The anticipation of its suffocating grasp made Paulo feel like he was leaving something behind in that little peaceful alcove of the hospital garden.

\------

Alvaro stayed behind to clean up. It was the least he felt he could do, given that he was the one who’d organised it. He couldn’t possibly just leave everything to the people working at the hospital.

Gustavo and Mariano stayed to help, but had to bring their mom home to rest because she was feeling tired. Alvaro helped them call a cab.

Alvaro’s parents and Marta waited with Winnie until Alvaro was done. Alvaro took a cab with them to their hotel.

“Will you be staying with us tonight?” mom asked.

Alvaro shook his head.

No one seemed surprised.

His dad pulled him aside. “You okay?” he asked.

Alvaro smiled. “Yeah, dad.”

“It’s difficult.”

“Yeah.”

“You just have to – it’s just gonna be a little while longer. Okay?”

Alvaro nodded.

“Remember how defiant you were when you first came home with Paulo to tell me he’s your boyfriend? You need that fierceness back, okay? You need to be like that. ‘Cause you told me if there was one person worth giving everything up for, it was him. You meant that, didn’t you?”

“With all my heart, papi.”

“Show him that,” dad said softly. “Okay?”

Alvaro nodded again. “You know – you know I still wanna marry him, right?”

“I know.”

“Even if he’s...even if he’s going to have to live with depression for the rest of his life.”

“I think he’s already been living with it for half his life, Alvaro.”

Alvaro dipped his head in response. “I just – I love him.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro’s dad smiled. He wrapped Alvaro in a hug. “C’mere.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro whispered.

“Go back there, ‘kay?” dad said softly. “You have a couple hours before visiting is over.”

“Yeah, I’ll just. Just sit with him.”

Alvaro got back in a cab after bidding his family goodbye and kissing a very reluctant Winnie on her head.

It was a little past seven when Alvaro reached Paulo’s room, so at least Alvaro had almost two hours left with his Paulo. He dropped by the florist first, to buy Paulo a rose. There was one left in the bucket, because the florist always saved one for Alvaro, no matter how late he was.

He could see Paulo from outside his room, through the little rectangular window. He was sitting on his bed, legs sloppily crossed, one hand lazily flipping his colouring book and the other hand softly squeezing his stress ball. The dinner plates had already been cleared by then.

Alvaro opened the door.

Paulo almost leapt out of bed when he saw Alvaro, and Alvaro initially thought he had startled Paulo but instead, Paulo ran right at him and crashed into him in a hug.

“Oh,” Alvaro gasped as all the air got knocked out of him. He wrapped his arms around Paulo, so tightly they wound back around for Alvaro to touch his own shoulders. “Hey. Hi.”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo sobbed.

“Why?” Alvaro asked. “Hey. No.”

“I’m – I just – you were – you’re so – I –”

Alvaro shuffled his feet until he could put Paulo in bed, lifting his legs under the blanket and tucking it around him. He wanted to sit in the chair but Paulo patted the space next to him, so Alvaro went ahead and climbed in, leaving a safe gap between them.

He handed Paulo the rose and Paulo took it, crying softly as he played with the stem.

“What’s wrong?” Alvaro asked.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered.

“What happened?”

“That I called you selfish.”

Alvaro sighed. “I – I know,” he said. “I understand why you called me selfish.”

Paulo closed his eyes. “I hate that we’re fighting.”

“We’re not,” Alvaro said. He wrapped his hand around Paulo’s knee, over the blanket, and gave it a squeeze. “Yeah?’

“I’m sorry, Alvi,” Paulo sobbed.

“Stop apologising to me.”

“I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. “I just – I’m sorry. Pau, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that we’ve lived half our lives together but I never thought – I never could tell that you were depressed. I keep asking myself. I keep asking why I never saw it, why I never did anything about it. I’ve been letting you down all these years, Pau. And I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry that – that I didn’t help. That you felt like...like doing that was your only way out. And I know why you called me selfish, I do, I get it. But that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it again. If I had to do it a thousand times, if I knew I had to hear you call me selfish a thousand times, I would still have saved you every one of those thousand times. I would still have been selfish every single time. Because I just – I can’t. Paulo. I don’t know what I would do with myself if you weren’t here. When you were sleeping, I – I just kept sitting here, and I could only come for an hour before they chased me away, and I – I just didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking, what if you didn’t wake up? What would I do? I was – I didn’t know what to do with myself, Paulo, you are my entire life.”

Paulo didn’t respond, just continued crying quietly.

“You know, I keep thinking?” Alvaro said, swallowing his sob. “If I had said yes? What would we be doing now? Because I would, Paulo. I would have said yes. And I just keep thinking, I said no because of stupid, selfish reasons, reasons which were valid for me and not for you. And I just. I just kept making you worse and I didn’t help you, Paulo, you – you _know_. You have to know how much – how much I love you. I love you so much. You have to know that. It doesn’t matter that you don’t – that you can’t – love me back. I love you. I always have and I always will, and I will always be here and – Paulo. I would marry you in a heartbeat. I would. I need you to know that.”

“I just really –” Paulo sobbed. “Really, really wanted to die.”

“Do you still?” Alvaro asked. “Want to – want to die?”

Paulo went quiet for a long time. Alvaro wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Are you mad at me?” Paulo eventually asked, instead of answering the question.

“No,” Alvaro whispered.

“What about before?”

Alvaro closed his eyes. He heard his tears plop on the bedsheet. “I was just mad that you were gonna leave me all alone in this world,” he whispered. “That you thought I could just go on and grow old without you when I can’t even imagine one day without you.”

Paulo gave a loud sob. “Alvi,” he murmured.

Alvaro reached over and pulled Paulo close, tucking him under his arm. He gave the top of Paulo’s head a lingering kiss, taking in the less familiar scent of hospital shampoo.

“You’re okay now,” he said softly. “We’re okay now.”

“Always?”

The familiarity of that question whammed into Alvaro like a bag of bricks. “Always,” he whispered. “You’re – you’re just not allowed to leave me all alone ever again, okay?”

Paulo nodded. Alvaro took it as a promise.

“Thank you for coming to see me every day,” he said, wrapping his arms around Alvaro’s waist.

Alvaro smiled. “What else would I do?”

“Where – where are you staying?”

“At your place, most of the time,” Alvaro said. “Mariano, uh. He helped me...clean up. And everything. Yeah.”

“Most of the time?” Paulo asked. When Alvaro remained quiet, he continued, “What about the other times?”

Alvaro gestured towards the row of chairs outside Paulo’s room.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

“I just don’t wanna go too far away from you,” Alvaro mumbled, afraid he would burst into tears again.

Paulo pulled himself out of Alvaro’s grasp, violently swiping at his tears to wipe them away. “Alvi, I just,” he sighed. “Alvi. I’m trying. I just – I wanna know how to...to feel things again. And it’s not fair...it’s not fair that you have to watch me be like this. I don’t want you to be like this. You’ve already wasted your summer. I don’t want you to waste your whole life with me like this.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste of my life if I get to spend it with you.”

“I just – I can’t be with you like before.”

Alvaro swallowed hard. “We can just be friends,” he whispered. “Like we said before.”

“Yeah?” Paulo sobbed.

Alvaro nodded.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered. “You know how much you mean to me?”

“Yeah?”

“Just...a lot. It’s a lot.”

Alvaro couldn’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Paulo said. “For...just for everything.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “Pau. You know...you know I’d spend every single day of the rest of my life saving you, if that’s what I have to do.”

“Yeah?” Paulo tilted his head up to smile at Alvaro.

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t – I don’t want that. I don’t want to need that.”

“That’s good.”

“I like to think so, too.”

“Do you think the medicine is working?” Alvaro asked. “Do you...like, feel better?”

Paulo shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe when your therapy starts,” Alvaro suggested.

“Yeah.”

“But you have to let the nurses know, okay?” Alvaro said. “And the doctor. If you think the medicine is working, or if it’s making you feel worse, or anything like that.”

Paulo smiled. “Okay.”

“I’m so proud of you, Paulo.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. For wanting to be better. That’s – that’s just so great.”

A long, comfortable silence. Paulo leaned back against his pillows, taking Alvaro with him so they were half reclined. He just lied on his back and stared at the ceiling, and Alvaro watched him, mesmerised by his beauty.

“Alvi,” he whispered, jolting Alvaro out of his daydream and making him realise that Paulo was crying again.

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I just – I don’t want you to think that this is your fault,” Paulo sobbed. “Okay? That I’m broken because you did this to me. Because it’s not. It’s not your fault and I know it.”

Alvaro nodded, even though. Even though he disagreed a little bit. “No matter how broken you are,” he said softly. “You will always be my Paulo and I will always love you and care for you.”

“Okay,” Paulo mouthed.

“I – sometimes I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to do,” Alvaro continued. “You know? To...to help you. And not make you feel even worse. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to abandon you. I just – I just need to think a little bit. I would never, ever abandon you. Okay?”

Paulo nodded. He turned his head so his cheek was resting on the pillow, and he smiled at Alvaro, and Alvaro felt his world start to turn again.

“Did you have a good time today?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “Thank you.”

They descended into a warm, comfortable silence. Paulo turned on the TV and left it on a low murmur. He curled his fingers gently around Alvaro’s thumb, restlessly fiddling with Alvaro’s hand.

It was the best feeling Alvaro had ever experienced.

He spent the rest of the evening watching his beautiful Paulo through half-closed eyes, thoroughly exhausted from all the planning and executing. He didn’t – as much as he believed in Paulo, a part of Alvaro had thought he would never get to do this ever again. He’d thought that in some way, he had lost Paulo forever.

But there Paulo was, safe and sound.

And for the first time in almost two months, Alvaro dared to close his eyes without being afraid that Paulo would be gone when he opened them.

\------

Paulo reclined the bed and reached above him to turn off the overhead light when he realised Alvaro was asleep.

He shared his blanket with Alvaro. It was just enough to tuck under Alvaro’s waist.

The sight of Alvaro sleeping actually made Paulo smile.

When the nurse came in at nine pm sharp to give Paulo his medicine and sit there for her surveillance, Paulo told her not to wake Alvaro up.

“There’s no visitors allowed after nine,” she whispered.

“Just this once,” Paulo whispered back, arm slung protectively over Alvaro. “Please?”

“But –”

“Look at him, he’s sleeping so pretty. Please don’t wake him up. He’s tired.”

She sighed. “Okay, but take your medicine.”

Paulo swallowed his pills obediently. “Thank you,” he said happily.

“Go to sleep, Paulo,” she said. She sat down in her hair and turned on the little reading light above her head so she could read a magazine.

Paulo rested his head on the pillow again, on his side so he could watch Alvaro sleep, peacefully and open-mouthed.

He pressed his nose close to Alvaro’s ear. Alvaro smelled exactly the same, but. But now with a sharp tinge of that surgical smell that came with hospitals.

Paulo ran his hands softly through Alvaro’s hair so he wouldn’t wake him. The fact that this was the closest he could allow himself to be to Alvaro was starting to hurt.

“Do you want another blanket?” the nurse asked in a whisper, suddenly appearing behind Paulo.

Paulo nodded a yes. She disappeared outside and returned less than five minutes later with a blanket identical to the one Paulo had. Paulo slid under it and watched the nurse lift the bed rails so neither of them would roll off the bed. She raised three fingers in an ‘ok?’ sign.

Paulo nodded again and she went back to her chair.

It was only a single bed, so it was a squeeze. But Paulo had space if he lied on his side, so he snuggled closer to Alvaro and draped his arm over Alvaro’s shoulder, cupping his jaw. He hoped Alvaro wouldn’t wake up from how hard Paulo was watching him.

The room was just as quiet as the last nine nights Paulo had spent there, but somehow. Somehow, that night was different. The silence didn’t pulse through Paulo’s veins and make him want to explode.

Paulo thought he could hear Alvaro’s heartbeat.

He gathered enough courage to rest his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder.

It took Alvaro all of five minutes to wake up with a jolt again, jostling Paulo off his shoulder. He blinked hard at his dark surroundings before registering he was at the hospital and Paulo was right next to him.

Alvaro’s eyes. His eyes, though the same dark brown, were shining in the dark like Paulo’s beacons of light. They crinkled in a smile when they met Paulo’s.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Past nine,” Paulo said.

“Should I stay?”

Paulo closed his eyes. He knew these moments were rare as they came, the moments when Paulo felt normal.

“Always,” he whispered.

Alvaro chuckled softly. He dug his arm under Paulo and pulled Paulo back on his shoulder, evidently relaxing when Paulo didn’t resist or pull away. He just. Just seemed relieved that Paulo was willing to be affectionate with him.

Paulo was relieved about that, too.

“Night, Pau,” he said softly.

“Night,” Paulo said.

There seemed to be something else Alvaro wanted to say.

Paulo waited, but Alvaro didn’t say it.

Paulo fell asleep to the movement of Alvaro’s fingers in his hair. He slept through the night, Alvaro’s presence guarding him against the dream that had haunted him every night before.

\------

On the twelfth day, Paulo went for his first therapy session.

A nurse went with him down to the clinic, so Alvaro had time to go out for breakfast. He ventured further into the city during his two free hours and found a toy store selling Lego sets.

He picked out a cargo train; a thousand and two hundred pieces, which was nothing to Paulo.

For some reason, the thought of going back and giving it to Paulo filled Alvaro with dread.

The thought that maybe Paulo still didn’t have the willpower to do it, to do the one thing he had always, _always_ enjoyed doing, filled Alvaro with a type of fear so intense that Alvaro almost put the box back on the shelf.

But the tiny part of him that believed that Paulo would like it, that Paulo would have the energy to enjoy it again, made him pay for it and bring it back to the hospital.

When he got back with the Lego set and his usual rose, Paulo was already back in his room. His dirty lunch dishes sat on the rollaway table in front of him.

He was hugging his penguin soft toy and crying.

Alvaro’s instinct told him to run inside and hug Paulo, but. But instead he hesitated at the door, wondering if that was really the right thing to do. He stayed there for about five minutes until a nurse came by for Paulo’s hourly check-in.

Alvaro watched as he went inside and checked Paulo’s head for a fever, then wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. They spoke in hushed tones; Alvaro couldn’t read their lips enough to see what they were saying, even though Paulo wasn’t really saying anything, just the nurse.

“What happened to him?” Alvaro asked as the nurse completed his check and closed the door behind him.

“I guess he had a very difficult time at therapy,” the nurse replied. The tray of dirty dishes clanked as he propped it against his body.

“Is it supposed to be this way?”

“Sometimes, yeah, people are made to think about or talk about things they’d rather not think or talk about,” he said. “But it’s easier in the long run, both for the therapist and the patient.”

“Should I go inside?”

The nurse smiled kindly. “I think he’d like that very much.”

Alvaro pushed the door open. Paulo didn’t budge.

“Hey,” Alvaro said softly, stopping by Paulo’s bedside.

Paulo didn’t respond.

Alvaro placed the rose in Paulo’s hand. Paulo didn’t push it away. He fiddled with its stem for a while before tucking it between the penguin’s flipper and its body.

“What’s her name?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo turned to gaze at him, confused.

Alvaro gestured at the penguin.

Paulo turned back to it, but it seemed like he was doing it only to avoid eye contact with Alvaro.

“It’s a boy,” he whispered.

“What’s his name?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shrugged.

Alvaro’s heart fell to the ground.

“How was it?” he dared to ask.

Paulo closed his eyes. Tears rolled steadily down his cheeks.

“Don’t make me go back there,” he sobbed.

“It’s gonna help you.”

“I hate it.”

“It’s probably good to have someone to talk to you, maybe help you put things into perspective.”

“I don’t want it. I hate it, Alvi.”

“Maybe in a few sessions, you’ll see how it works. You know? Maybe digging up all these things you’ve never wanted to talk about, it can help you overcome them. Because you’ve never thought about them out loud with someone and gotten another opinion about it, a truly neutral opinion.”

Paulo didn’t respond to that. He just sobbed quietly.

“I don’t like telling anyone things about myself,” he finally said. “People I don’t know.”

“He’s only here to help.”

“She.”

“She’s only here to help,” Alvaro corrected himself. “Not to judge. And for her to help you, you have to tell her everything. Even if it hurts. It’s like. Like an investment, you know?”

“How do I know if she’s judging me?”

“It’s her job not to.”

Paulo went quiet again. Alvaro sat there looking at him, wanting so badly to hold his hand that it actually physically hurt his chest.

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo shook his head.

Alvaro sat there, helpless.

He took the rose and placed it in the vase, which was being emptied every couple of days and only had three other roses in it. He wrapped Paulo's blanket more tightly around his shoulders but Paulo shrugged it off.

Alvaro eventually gathered enough courage to take the box of Legos out of its paper bag and place it on the bed in front of Paulo.

“I got this for you,” he said softly.

Paulo stared at it for a while. Then he took it from Alvaro’s hands and put it on his rollaway table.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Then he stared at the box like he was willing the pieces to put themselves together.

“Do you want to build it together?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shook his head, but any sliver of hope Alvaro had had of Paulo maybe just wanting to complete it by himself was dashed when Paulo curled up on his side, away from Alvaro.

Alvaro had to quickly leave the room so Paulo wouldn’t hear him crying.

He curled up in one of the chairs outside Paulo’s room, sobbing as quietly as he could. He just. Alvaro had never felt so utterly helpless in his entire life.

He ended up calling the only person in the world he knew could help him.

“Could you come over now?”

“Sure,” Franco said without even a moment’s hesitation. “Is everything okay?”

“I just – he just – I think he just had a really bad time at therapy.”

“Is that supposed to happen?”

“I – maybe he’s just struggling with the concept of therapy.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Alvaro sat outside Paulo’s room, waiting, watching Paulo through the little window. Paulo didn’t do anything much. He didn’t even move.

About twenty minutes later a very flustered Franco arrived, with Isco in tow. They sat down, each on one side of Alvaro.

“What happened?” Franco asked.

Alvaro gestured to the window. “He’s just lying there, and he doesn’t wanna do anything anymore and he just keeps crying. And I bought him a Lego set, again, but he doesn’t wanna – he doesn’t wanna put it together, again. And I don’t know what to do, just, please do something, please help me.”

Franco stared at him for a while. Then he lifted a paper bag that Alvaro hadn’t noticed he was carrying. “We brought the stuff from Japan, maybe we can all open it together and try to make him feel better?”

“You guys go ahead,” Alvaro said, sniffling. He swiped at his tears with his palms. “I’m – I’ll sit outside.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Isco said. He grabbed Alvaro’s hand and tugged until Alvaro stood up, then continued holding it like a little child as he dragged Alvaro into Paulo’s room.

Franco got straight into the thick of things, going in front of Paulo and sitting on his bed. He softly coaxed Paulo to sit up, then squeezed in next to him and started talking. Paulo didn’t respond, but Franco continued speaking in the gentlest, most soothing voice.

Paulo eventually gathered enough energy to perk up when Franco lifted the paper bag of things from Japan. He sat hugging his penguin as Franco and Isco brandished gift after gift – t-shirts, weird Japanese snacks, keyrings, ticket stubs from the places they visited, more t-shirts, and finally a Lego set of a miniature Tokyo skyline.

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered. He didn’t actually look at anyone, just said it at the bed.

“You like them?” Isco asked.

Paulo nodded.

“We’ll go to Japan again together one day, okay?”

Paulo nodded again.

“What do you want to do now?” Franco asked. “We’ll hang out with you.”

“I don’t wanna do anything,” Paulo mumbled.

Isco and Franco exchanged a glance over his head, then turned in unison towards Alvaro. Alvaro stared back at them, equally helpless.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Isco asked kindly. “Maybe this morning?”

Paulo slowly lifted his head to blink at him, then turned to Alvaro with the slightest accusing look in his eyes.

Franco placed a firm but reassuring hand on Paulo’s shoulder. “Maybe we can put the Legos together while we talk,” he said when Paulo turned back.

Paulo nodded reluctantly, though he was still still staring at the bed and making Alvaro think that Franco was going to end up doing most of the talking. He reached for Franco’s Lego set – because it was closer to him, but Alvaro couldn’t help but think that Paulo didn’t like what Alvaro had gotten for him.

“Maybe we’ll put this one together, yeah?” Franco said, reaching for the cargo train set on the rollaway table. “It takes up less space. Maybe when you’re all better, we can put Tokyo together at home. Yeah?”

Paulo let Franco take the Tokyo set away from him. He studied the back of the box that Alvaro had gotten him, then proceeded to open it and pass the instruction booklet to Franco.

Isco wandered over to Alvaro and decided to use his shoulder as an armrest. They watched Franco and Paulo slowly but steadily put the little bricks together, Paulo dealing with the body of the train and Franco with the cargo. The scattered pile of bricks on the bed slowly got smaller and smaller. Franco and Paulo spoke in soft tones; softly enough to not sound like they were quarreling, even though Paulo was very obviously trying to resist all of Franco’s questions, but loudly enough for Isco and Alvaro to hear.

Alvaro could tell that Paulo was annoyed. Perhaps not at anyone, but at the situation in general. Paulo was annoyed and he was making himself do things that he didn’t want to do, like sit in bed and make a stupid Lego set and let himself be forced to talk about therapy when he’d very much rather just sleep.

But at the end of the day, the three of them found out that Paulo had just been repressing so, so many things over the years and that he’d been made to talk about them at therapy that morning. Things about his dad. About his mom. About his sexuality. About feeling like he had a battle to fight every day of his life, even if things were going perfectly. About how even though he’d spoken about all these things before, he still felt so many emotions about them that he thought that he would never be able to put into words. And he hated talking about them. He hated thinking about them. He had long gotten used to the weight of these thoughts taking up space in his brain.

“I think it’s nice to have someone who will listen to you even if you have no words to say,” Isco said.

“Yeah,” Franco said, even though what Isco said had made zero sense to Alvaro. “You know, like, if you talk to her enough, then she’ll know you so well that you could just sit there and mumble a few words and she would completely understand. From a medical point of view.”

God, they were made for each other.

“Yeah, I think it’s good, you know?” Isco said. “I mean, she’s literally...she’s just there to listen. That’s all that she does. So there’s no – there’s nothing personal about it. You don’t have to think about, like, if she’s going to gossip to you to your friends, or if she thinks that you’re a bad person, or if she’s offended by your opinions or she thinks you’re lame. She’s not going to do all that. A hundred percent. She just wants to understand and help you. And she can do that in a way that none of us can, she can provide you with...with a different kind of support.”

“And I think it’s going to be hard at first because – well, if you put me with a complete stranger and asked me to tell her everything I’ve ever thought about, I’d obviously be just as upset as you,” Franco added. “So...yeah. I just think that...maybe you just have to give it time. To get used to it. Maybe she can help you resolve some things.”

“Or give you some answers.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think she’s just supposed to guide you towards the answers. Not give you them.”

“That’s...yeah,” Isco said. “Yeah.”

Everyone went quiet for a while. Franco passed Paulo the lump of Lego bricks he’d put together and they all watched as Paulo tried to figure out how to attach it to the half-finished train, then gave up and placed everything on the table.

After a few minutes of complete, awkward silence, Franco reached for the tiny bricks and links and put them back in their plastic bags. He put the bags back in the box and the half-finished train on top of it.

Then he sat down next to Paulo again, speaking to him in a soft murmur.

Alvaro found himself on the verge of tears.

He gently shrugged Isco’s arm off his shoulder and excused himself out of the room.

He stood by the side of the window for a while, so he could still see Paulo, Franco, and Isco a little, and besides Isco – who was just a little bit confused – no one else had realised Alvaro was gone. Or if they had, they didn't react.

Alvaro thought maybe he’d go home. Maybe he’d pack up all his things and fly back to London.

Paulo seemed to be in good hands anyway.

Isco came after Alvaro after a minute of staring out at him. He sat down in the next chair and asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Alvaro said.

“C’mon. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s just,” Alvaro gestured at the window. “He doesn’t seem to like me being around that much.”

“Don't be stupid,” Isco said blatantly. “Have you seen the way he's been looking at you all day?”

“Like he's really mad at me?”

“Dumbass,” Isco remarked.

“What?”

“You've just been looking at his hands,” Isco said. “While he was building the thing. He's been sneaking glances at you all day, waiting for you to say something. He still looks at you the same way he has been since the first day. Like he just wants to kiss you.”

“He hasn't,” Alvaro said, hanging his head so his tears fell on the polished floor between his knees.

“You haven’t been paying attention.”

“He doesn’t choose me anymore,” Alvaro whispered. “At the party the other day, he chose you. He chose to talk to you, out of everyone. And today, he chose to talk to Franco, even though – even though earlier today I basically told him the same things. He chose Franco. He chooses to talk to anyone but me. We had a talk the other day after the party but that was all. Since then, he has barely said a word to me.”

“Alvaro –”

“I just don’t think he likes me very much.”

“ _Alvaro,_ ” Isco said again. “What are we, five years old?”

“I’m not even asking for anything, you know?” Alvaro sobbed. “I just want to be here for him. I don’t want anything from him.”

Isco went quiet for a while, but he wrapped an arm around Alvaro’s shoulders and hugged him close.

“For the record,” he finally said, softly. “I think that he still loves you very, very much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Isco said earnestly, giving Alvaro’s arm a squeeze. “You think that if he didn’t like you being around, he wouldn’t have just asked you to go away? He hasn’t even said that one time, has he?”

Alvaro shook his head. Not even once. Not even during their fight had Paulo ever told Alvaro to leave.

“You ever think that maybe words just don’t cut it anymore?” Isco asked. “Between you two. Words just don’t...they don’t do it.”

“Then what else can I do?” Alvaro whispered. His heart was clenching into a fist. “I don’t know what to do. I love him so much, I love him but I don’t know what I can do for him.”

“Just be here in your own way,” Isco said. “I think he likes that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just think – maybe, you know, he’s thinking that he doesn’t want to be selfish. That if he tries to keep you, then he’ll ruin your life, ‘cause he knows that this is something he’ll have to live with for the rest of his life. And he doesn’t want that for you. He wants you to be happy. He wants you to live a fulfilling life and not one where you have to take care of him every day because it would make him hate himself even more.”

“But I want to.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“It’s ‘cause I never told him.”

“I’m sure you’ve told him,” Isco said encouragingly. “It’s just – just what depression does. You know?”

“I just want to help him,” Alvaro sobbed, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his jumper. “You know? I just want to help. And I know I shouldn’t be asking for a response from him but – but how would I know? How would I know if I’m doing the right thing? I thought he was getting better. You know? After that talk we had, after the last couple of days, with all the medication. I thought he was getting better. But then today – today happened, and. And I just don’t – I don’t know anymore. I just want him to feel better and I hate that I can’t make this go away.”

“It takes time,” Isco whispered. “Yeah? It’s gonna take time. And it’s not just going to be a straight road. You’re gonna have many, many more of these days, like today. There’s gonna be ups and downs, and sometimes Paulo is gonna feel happy but other times he’s going to be down and that’s going to have to be okay. You’re going to have to be okay with that, you’re gonna have to press on and not give up at the slightest sign that Paulo is in a bad mood. ‘Cause this is a complicated illness and it’s not just going to go away because you tried your best.”

“What if I can’t do all that?” Alvaro asked. He would give the _world_ to be able to help Paulo but Alvaro. Alvaro wasn’t sure he was strong enough. “What if I’m – if I’m too weak for that?”

“You can’t do it by yourself, Alvaro,” Isco said. “We’re all gonna help you. Me, Franco, Paulo’s brothers, whoever. Everyone’s gonna help you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

They sat there for a while, looking at Paulo and Franco through the window. Alvaro finally caught Paulo throwing glances at him, like Isco had described earlier.

Their eyes met once. Alvaro mustered the brightest smile he could.

Paulo smiled back.

“See?” Isco said quietly when he saw. “And he hasn’t stopped hugging that giant penguin for the entire day.”

Alvaro turned to beam at him, suddenly just. Just really, really happy.

“I think that maybe he doesn’t talk to you because you’re too close,” Isco continued, like he’d been thinking and had finally figured it out for Alvaro. Which made Alvaro realise he hadn’t been doing any thinking at all, just been watching his beautiful Paulo. Which was – well, maybe a little bit irresponsible of Alvaro, he thought.

“What do you mean?” he asked, anyway.

“It’s easier to talk to someone further from the situation. It’s more...objective.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. That was probably it.

He was suddenly unsure why he’d been so disturbed earlier.

“C’mon,” Isco said, standing up and holding Alvaro’s hand again. “Let’s go get dinner.”

“Paulo has dinner,” Alvaro pointed out.

“Well, what about us?”

Alvaro hadn’t really thought about that. He realised he missed his own dinner most of the time, just sitting there making sure Paulo ate his food.

“Okay,” Alvaro said as he was dragged along. “But will you stop holding my hand?”

“Why?”

“It’s weird. Do you have a crush on me?”

“Gross,” Isco tutted.

“Well, then why do you keep holding my hand?”

“‘Cause you won’t move your stupid ass.”

“I’m moving now.”

Isco dropped Alvaro’s hand. They headed out of the hospital grounds and found a burger place, where Alvaro got Paulo a portobello mushroom burger with a heap of onions. He forgot to order for himself until Isco disappeared for a while and reappeared next to him with three burgers.

“You forgot about us,” he remarked, passing Alvaro one burger. “I got you something with cheese.”

“Thanks,” Alvaro said.

The journey back to the hospital and Paulo’s room was silent. Paulo and Franco were still in the same positions from when Isco and Alvaro had left; Franco was wedged in the bed next to Paulo, who was leaning back on his pillows and hugging his oversized penguin. The Lego set on Paulo’s rollaway table had been replaced by his dinner, which was untouched.

Alvaro took his seat in the same chair while Isco dragged over the nurse’s chair and sat down on Franco’s side. He handed Paulo his burger.

“Lots of onions,” he said.

Paulo’s fingers lingered on Alvaro’s as he took it. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Alvaro smiled. He started on his burger, but he was only about halfway through it when Paulo finished his. He sat there, corners of his mouth smeared with brown sauce, and chewed on some stray slices of onion.

Alvaro thought he saw Paulo eyeing his burger, so he gave the rest of it to him.

Paulo gobbled it up in no time at all, then just sat there, leaning on Alvaro’s shoulder and sighing contentedly.

Alvaro took it that if Paulo had been angry at him for calling Isco and Franco, he was trying to tell Alvaro that he forgave him.

“I guess we’ll make a move,” Franco said as he gathered all their dirty wrappers and put them in a paper bag. He took a few steps towards the door, then stopped. “Wait for you outside?” he asked Alvaro.

Alvaro made no move to follow them, so Isco continued, “Should we head home first?”

Alvaro nodded.

The both of them stood at the foot of Paulo’s bed for a while longer, looking like proud parents.

Then they left the room in a peaceful silence only punctuated by the low murmur of the TV.

Paulo took his head off Alvaro’s shoulder, but didn’t say a word. The quietness settled on them like a heavy blanket, but neither of them made any move to remove themselves from under it.

Alvaro realised that he had nothing to say to Paulo.

It wasn’t about the lack of topics to talk about, because Alvaro knew he and Paulo could literally talk about anything under the sun. It wasn’t that Alvaro had lost touch with Paulo. It wasn’t that he was still subconsciously angry that Paulo was going to leave him alone to face the world.

It was just – just that words didn’t cut it anymore.

In that moment Alvaro really wanted to slap Isco but also hug him real tight, and it did both of them good that Isco was probably already halfway home.

Alvaro wasn’t sure what came beyond words. What came beyond words when it came to Alvaro just wanting so badly to tell Paulo that he loved him with all his stupid little heart?

Actions, maybe.

Without thinking, Alvaro reached over and took Paulo’s hand. Maybe he couldn’t put everything he wanted to say to Paulo into any sort of coherent sentence, but maybe he could put them into a simple little squeeze of Paulo’s tiny hand.

Paulo turned and smiled a hesitant smile. He slid his fingers between Alvaro’s, like it was completely natural for them to be holding hands. It felt familiar. It flooded Alvaro’s insides with warmth.

Maybe – maybe just Alvaro’s presence. Maybe that was what came beyond words.

 _I love you,_ Alvaro said quietly in his head. The words echoed around his skull, unable to find an escape.

The silence between Paulo and Alvaro lasted until nine pm, when a nurse appeared with Paulo’s pills. It was a signal for Alvaro to leave, so he stood up after watching Paulo swallow his pills in the usual order. Blue, pink, then white; like this was the only part of Paulo’s life he could have control of.

He watched Paulo brush his teeth in the mirror. He loved that Paulo could do these things by himself now, without anyone pushing him too hard.

“Alvi,” Paulo called softly as Alvaro tucked him under his blanket. The first words he’d said to Alvaro since the burger. “See you tomorrow?”

Alvaro smiled. He smoothed Paulo’s hair on his head; he was beginning to look like a little lion again. “Always,” he whispered.

Paulo smiled this. This smile that was a mixture of lethargy and longing and so much ache, but above all, relief.

Alvaro was halfway to the door when Paulo called again.

“Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

Paulo got out from under his freshly tucked blanket and ran to Alvaro, folding gently into Alvaro’s chest, his arms wrapping around Alvaro’s waist more firmly than Alvaro had expected.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Alvaro smiled. He closed his eyes and inhaled all of Paulo’s scent, and he felt the same relief that he had seen in Paulo’s eyes. He lifted Paulo’s head just enough to press his lips to Paulo’s forehead.

He hoped Paulo wouldn’t feel the shudder that Alvaro’s sob sent through his body.

But he didn’t let go. As long as no one came to pull them apart, Alvaro thought that he might never let go of his Paulo. He could stand there forever, just. Just holding this boy, this twenty-seven year old kid with whom Alvaro had been in love for half of his life.

When Paulo pulled away, his eyes were red and teary.

Alvaro couldn’t help but smile. He cupped Paulo’s cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe them dry. Paulo did the same for him.

It both melted Alvaro’s bones and broke Alvaro’s heart that until that very day, under those very circumstances, they still – they still so thoroughly understood each other that not even a single word had needed to be said.

“Night, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Night,” Paulo mumbled. He moved his arms back to Alvaro’s waist and didn’t make any move to unwind them.

Alvaro gave Paulo’s cheeks a squeeze when they were dry, then turned him around by the shoulders and gave him a gentle nudge towards his bed. Paulo climbed back into it obediently.

The last thing Alvaro saw through the crack of the door as he closed it was Paulo’s sleepy smile.

Alvaro didn’t go home. He didn’t leave the hospital.

He sat outside Paulo’s room and watched Paulo through the little window in his wall.

Paulo knew he was there. Paulo had turned in his bed so he was watching Alvaro watch him.

The sobs wracking Alvaro’s body didn’t stop him from giving Paulo a smile.

Paulo smiled back, his teary eyes crinkling beautifully.

Alvaro didn’t close his eyes for the rest of the night. He just sat there, wondering if his mind would always be separated from Paulo’s like the door of his room separated them for twelve hours every night.


	10. And All I Need Is Next To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,  
> First of all I want to say that I'm very very sorry that this chapter took so long. I've gotten an offer for a scholarship to start my PhD studies in January, and my professor is pushing my current project to publication before I convert to student again, so I've just been soooo busy the last month. It's clearing up recently though, and I hope I can continue to write more. As I've always promised, I will finish this series, so please don't worry about that, I won't let you down. I'm sorry that it's taking longer than anticipated though!
> 
> I hope this (really really long) chapter is worth the wait. Do enjoy it and read it slowly :p
> 
> Thank you all so much again for your support. I love reading all your messages, please don't hesitate to talk to me about this story or anything you wish, here or on tumblr. Thank you!
> 
> Title is from Mona Lisa (When The World Comes Down) by The All-American Rejects.

Paulo’s subsequent therapy sessions didn’t go as badly.

He went for them three more times, on Monday, Thursday, and Saturday. Each time, he returned to his room less upset.

“How was it today?” Alvaro asked on that last Saturday when Paulo came back to his room. Paulo hadn’t been talking much about his sessions. It was like he preferred to avoid talking about them altogether. But Alvaro thought he might try.

“It was okay,” Paulo said.

“What do you talk about?” Alvaro ventured.

“Just things,” Paulo shrugged.

“Are you more used to it now?”

Paulo nodded. The mattress squeaked under him as he settled into it. “I think it might be good for me.”

Alvaro smiled. “That’s cool,” he said. “How’s she like?”

“She’s Marie,” Paulo said. “You know? The one who, uh...diagnosed. Me.”

Alvaro remembered her. She was a small lady with the kindest voice that could make anyone feel like they were in a room made of cotton candy.

“Yeah,” he said. “She seems like a nice person.”

Paulo dipped his head in response. He fiddled with the flippers of his penguin for a while. Then he said, “Alvi.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said softly.

“Marie told me I can go home on Monday.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro said again. He felt this. This _happiness_ that threatened to explode out of his chest. “Really? That’s amazing.”

“You think so?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro shifted to sit on the bed next to Paulo. “I am so proud of you, Paulo.”

Paulo smiled shyly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Where – will you be going home?”

“I don’t – I don’t think so,” Alvaro said, suddenly worried that Paulo wanted him to leave.

“I mean, maybe I can – I think I can handle it on my own. I think I can...I can do it on my own.”

Alvaro sat there slouched over for a while, trying to think of a way to tell Paulo he wanted to stay without coming across like he didn't trust Paulo to take care of himself.

“Do you want me to go?” was what he eventually settled on, though frankly he was frightened to hear the answer.

Paulo sighed softly. He didn’t say a word for about five minutes, just played with the hangnail on his finger.

Alvaro cleared his throat. “I mean,” he started. “I’m – I’m very, very proud of you and I’m sure that – that you can do it. So I – I’ll go. If you want me to.”

“No,” Paulo said, so quickly it overlapped Alvaro’s last sentence. “No, I don’t – I don’t want you to go.”

Alvaro placed a hand on Paulo’s knee and gave it a squeeze. Paulo seemed to relax into his grasp. “Then I won’t leave,” he whispered.

“Do you want to leave?” Paulo asked quietly.

“Never,” Alvaro said.

Paulo smiled. “I just don’t want you to waste your time.”

“It’s never a waste of time with you.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo said. “Can I ask you something?’

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me the truth?”

“Of course.”

“Are you taking care of me because you’re waiting?” he asked. “For me to be okay, so...so we can be together again?”

And Alvaro. Alvaro would’ve been lying if he’d said he wasn’t. Maybe he was, a little bit. But he didn’t want Paulo to know that, to think that he was only worth anything if he was Alvaro’s boyfriend.

“No,” he lied, anyway.

Paulo went quiet for a while, then turned to examine Alvaro’s face. Alvaro didn’t turn to him, afraid that his expression would give everything away, just like it always did with Paulo.

“I am,” Paulo finally said, in a whisper. “I’m waiting to be okay so I can be with you again.”

Alvaro closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t – he didn’t know what to _say_. It felt like every move he made had a possibility of screwing things up.

“Just a little bit,” he finally said, softly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked, and he sounded hopeful, and. And Alvaro knew he should’ve told the truth from the beginning.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “But I – it’s not just because of that. It’s because you deserve to be okay and I want you to be okay. I’m waiting for you to be okay so that...just so that you’re okay. I’m fine if – if you feel like you can never be with me again, ever.”

 _God_ , those words even hurt to say.

“What if I never get better?” Paulo asked, and his voice had gotten thicker and Alvaro turned to him to realise he had started crying.

“Hey,” Alvaro cooed, wrapping him up and pulling him close. “Don’t say that. You will. You will. I believe in you.”

“I don’t want you to be waiting for the rest of your life.”

Alvaro thought if he were to spend the rest of his life doing only one thing, it would be exactly that.

“Let’s not talk about that, okay?” Alvaro said. “Let’s just focus on you.”

“I just want you to be happy, Alvi,” Paulo sobbed. “And if you find someone else you love, someone else who’s perfect for you, then. Then. Yeah.”

Alvaro wanted to. Alvaro wanted to yell at Paulo for being so fucking stupid, for saying something so thoroughly dumb, because Alvaro had only ever truly been in love with one person, and that was Paulo. And nothing, nothing Paulo ever said or did, nothing Paulo could ever become, would possibly make Alvaro stop loving him.

But he didn’t, because he knew there was already enough condescending yelling going on in Paulo’s head.

“Paulo,” he whispered into Paulo’s hair. “I’m taking care of you because I want to, no matter the outcome. I want to take care of you. I don’t expect anything from you that you can’t give me. I don’t want anything out of this. I just want you to. To be happy, to be better. I’m taking care of you because it’s the only thing I know how to do, the only thing I’ve known how to do since the day I met you. I don’t think this will ever change. Sure, of course, if we were...if we were to be a couple again some time in the future, that would be so amazing. But it doesn’t matter to me because no matter what happens, I’m sure of how I feel about you. And it won’t change. It won’t change and I won’t meet someone else that I love as much as I love you. I won’t stop caring for you and being here for you because – because I wouldn’t know what else to do with my life. I’m doing this for you, but also...also for me. You see? Yeah?”

“Thank you, Alvi,” Paulo mumbled, his tears and breath warm against the front of Alvaro’s t-shirt.

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro murmured. “Paulo, I just want you to know that you’re worth so much, just by yourself. You’re not worth something to me just because you were my boyfriend. You’re worth it, whether you’re my boyfriend or not.”

Paulo tilted his head up to smile at Alvaro. “I’m worth so much?” he asked. “How many millions?”

And Alvaro was just. Just so fucking _relieved_ that Paulo could crack a joke.

“All the millions,” he said.

“Well, how many?”

“All of them.”

“Infinite millions?”

“Mmhmm.”

Paulo chuckled. He pulled himself out of Alvaro’s grasp and leaned back on his pillows.

“Can I call my mom?” he asked.

Alvaro took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Paulo, even though technically Paulo was only allowed to use the telephones that lined the walls of his ward.

“I’m not supposed to –” Paulo started.

“Just between us,” Alvaro said.

Paulo smiled, and he even looked a little bit excited, like having this little secret was fun for him.

“Mami, I’m coming home on Monday,” he said into the phone, and Alvaro. Alvaro’s heart felt like it was soaring.

He listened in on the short conversation between Paulo and his mom. Halfway through a nurse came inside and furrowed her brow at them, but Alvaro flashed her a smile and she relented. After all, Paulo and Alvaro had been there so long that everyone knew them already.

“We’ll get out of your hair on Monday,” Alvaro told her.

“I’m going home,” Paulo said happily.

“Good for you, kiddo,” she said, beaming. “Drop by to see us sometimes, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good boy,” she said. She placed the back of her hand on Paulo’s forehead and indicated on the clipboard at the foot of Paulo’s bed that he wasn’t running a fever.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said when the door clicked shut behind her.

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that you're worth it.”

Paulo smiled. “You think so?”

“Mmhmm. I know so.”

“Thank you.”

“And I just want you to know that...that I would still love to be your boyfriend. I'd want to. For the rest of my life. Even if you aren't okay. Even if you live with this, with being like this, forever. I still would, I'd still love you, through it all. So it's...it's not about me waiting for you to be okay so we can be together again. It's not that. It's that...that I would want to be with you no matter whether you're okay or not.”

Paulo turned his smile to the blanket taut over his crossed legs. “I –” he started, his voice getting caught in his throat. “I just don't – don't wanna be a burden to you.”

“I know,” Alvaro whispered. “You could never be a burden to me. But I know. I know that this is your decision and only your decision to make. Not mine. But I just. I just want you to know. Yeah?”

Paulo nodded. “Thank you,” he said again.

They sat there quietly for a while, until Paulo's lunch came. He asked for an extra bowl so he could share with Alvaro.

Alvaro was. Alvaro was so fucking _happy._ Even the sight of Paulo forcing his medication down his throat didn’t make him so sad anymore.

After lunch Isco and Franco came by again, to finish that cargo train Lego set that had been gradually built up over the past week. Paulo had been getting more and more eager and hands-on  with it, which was to everyone's delight. They finally put every piece together that day, by the early evening.

“Now I can take it home on Monday,” Paulo said.

“You're going home on Monday?” Isco asked.

“That's amazing,” Franco added.

Paulo smiled at them and Alvaro thought once again how it was impossible for him to ever be tired of Paulo’s smile.

“Will you come over and build the Tokyo set with me?” he asked, pulling on Franco's sleeve.

It was the first time in months that he had voluntarily asked to participate in something, so everyone was a little surprised.

“Of course,” Franco eventually said. “Yeah. A hundred percent.”

“And Alvi can watch, 'cause he's no good with his hands,” Paulo said, making Isco burst into cheeky laughter.

“Can I come too?” he did ask, after he was done.

“'Course,” Paulo said.

“You can join the 'no good with hands’ gang,” Franco said.

“Hey,” Isco said accusingly. “I'm pretty sure that's not what you said when I –”

“Please, I don't think anyone wants to hear the rest,” Alvaro interrupted.

Isco gave a huff and dragged Franco out with him to get dinner.

Alvaro watched as Paulo found himself fascinated by the lion chasing a herd of zebras on TV.

He tried to take the cargo train from Paulo’s hands and put it on the table but Paulo wouldn’t let go of it.

“Alvi,” he finally said, softly.

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes I feel normal.”

Alvaro watched him for the rest of the day, smiling.

\------

Paulo moved back into his apartment on Monday.

Alvaro was at the hospital but Mariano had to help Paulo sign all his forms. Alvaro helped Paulo pack his things – mostly a couple sets of clothes, gifts people dropped off, and his cargo train set mounted in a display case –  and hovered around anxiously as Paulo put on some fresh clothes.

The cab ride home to Paulo’s apartment with Mariano in the front seat was short but quiet.

Alvaro had been living there for a few days, at least, so the apartment wasn't musty. Paulo walked around slowly, fingers brushing every surface, trying to re-familiarise himself with the place.

He found Winnie with a bouquet of flowers waiting for him on his bed, with a “welcome home” sign propped up next to her.

She stood up when Paulo entered the room, her little feet making four little dents in the mattress. She grabbed the stem of the bouquet in her mouth and stomped her front feet a little waiting for Paulo to take it from her.

“Aww,” Paulo cooed. He sat down and took the bouquet. “Hi, baby girl.”

Alvaro, who'd been trailing a few steps behind Paulo, stood at the door and smiled at them.

“You like the flowers?” he asked.

Paulo smiled back at him and he could've sworn Alvaro’s smile grew bigger. “Thank you, Alvi.”

Alvaro gave a little chuckle and disappeared back into the living room.

Paulo examined the bouquet of mixed flowers; pink roses and bright red and orange gerbera daisies stood out against white and faint purple lilies. A couple of dark red snapdragons decorated the edges. Long stalks of lemon leaves framed the splash of colour.

He went back outside hugging the bouquet and found Alvaro and Mariano sitting on the couch, chatting quietly.

Paulo went to the kitchen and found an empty glass vase, which he washed and filled with some water. He unwrapped the wrapping paper from the bouquet and dipped the tied stems in the water. It sat nicely in the vase, which Paulo brought outside to the coffee table.

The entire process seemed to take hours and drained Paulo of all his energy. He sat down on the couch, exhausted.

“Hi,” Alvaro said, smiling.

Paulo smiled back at him, again. He didn't. He didn't actually really know how to react when Alvaro showered him with affection like that.

“So where are you sleeping tonight?” Mariano asked Alvaro.

“Uh…” Alvaro started, glancing nervously at Paulo. “I’m –”

“I'll clean the guest room for you,” Paulo interrupted.

“You don't have to,” Alvaro said after a pause.

“I'll do it right now,” Paulo said, standing up.

“Don't,” Alvaro said, hesitantly. “I – why don't I clean it? You can take a rest, or something.”

“Maybe let him do it,” Paulo heard Mariano whisper. “It's probably good for him.”

Paulo swallowed hard and continued walking.

The guest room was a little dusty with disuse, so Paulo had to clean an area around the dresser to put all the Lego sculptures that were sitting on the bed. It took him a while to find a mop and wet it, and another while to clean the thick layer of dust that caked the floor.

Winnie came by and tracked all her dusty paw prints over the floor, so Paulo put her on the half-cleared bed and asked her to stay. She didn’t do a very good job of that, so Paulo tucked her under the sheets like a little human baby and watched her slowly fall asleep.

He wanted to start moving the rest of the Legos to the floor, but he was suddenly exhausted. He sat on the edge of the bed, body turned inward to watch Winnie sleep with her paws hanging over the blanket.

Alvaro appeared at the door a while later – Paulo wasn't sure how long – and asked, quietly, “Do you want my help?”

Paulo loved the way he asked it. If Paulo _wanted_ his help. Not if he _needed_ it.

It was funny how such microscopic things could change Paulo’s mood like he was in a simulation and someone had pressed a button.

He shook his head but Alvaro came in, anyway, and sat on the other side of the bed. “Aww,” he chuckled at the sight of Winnie. “She looks like a baby.”

“She was tracking dirt everywhere,” Paulo said.

Alvaro smiled. “Should I do anything?” he asked. “Like, maybe...I don’t know. Anything?”

Paulo didn't. He didn't really want to ask for any more help from Alvaro. Not because he didn't like Alvaro being around – _God,_ he _loved_ Alvaro being around – but because. Because he felt like he already owed Alvaro too much.

“I –” Paulo eventually stammered. “Maybe…” he trailed off, his hand smoothening the bedsheet.

Alvaro’s smile grew bigger. “I’ll go get the clean sheets,” he said, then instinctively leaned in as if to kiss Paulo, which was what they used to do whenever either one of them left the room. He realised what he was doing a split second after he started doing it, and instantly pulled away and stood up in one swift movement.

He cleared his throat and left the room in a heavy silence that weighed on Paulo’s two shoulders.

Paulo was. He was suddenly really, really tired, so he lied next to Winnie and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was awoken by a loud crash that seemed to go on for hours and hours.

Paulo sat up, surprised. Winnie cowered into his crotch. Alvaro and Mariano appeared in the doorway, looking worried and flustered.

The Lego sets that had been sitting on the bed were on the floor in pieces.

Paulo must've accidentally kicked them off the bed. He got on his knees on the floor, ignoring the sharp jolts of pain that the tiny pieces sent up his knees when he knelt on them.

“Hey, hey,” Alvaro said, weaving his way through the mess of colourful bricks, not even flinching when he stepped on them. He knelt in front of Paulo and lifted him by his underarms. “It's okay. It's okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, c’mon,” Alvaro said, dragging Paulo off the floor and onto the bed. “Just sit here for a while, ‘kay?” he said softly as he removed the Lego pieces wedged into Paulo’s knees.

Paulo sat on the bed watching Mariano and Alvaro collect the pieces of Lego that were no semblance to the bigger structures that they’d come from and were, much worse, all mixed up between the sets – and he started to cry.

Winnie seemed to be able to tell that something was going on; she stood up tall for a moment, eyes blinking curiously, then settled in Paulo’s lap looking up at him with those pretty dark eyes.

“Hey,” Alvaro said again, abandoning the pile of Lego bricks he'd gathered and joining Paulo on the bed. “Hey. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I'm sorry,” Paulo sobbed. He just. Just felt like melting into the floor. He suddenly felt so completely _useless_ and helpless and he couldn't even do one thing right, he just wanted to make the room clean and nice for his Alvaro but he couldn't even do that.

“It's okay,” Alvaro whispered. “Yeah? We're all okay.”

“You did great, kid,” Mariano called out from where he was kneeling on the ground, separating the Legos into two different piles that seemed to have come from two different structures. “The room looks great.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled, despite the situation. “It looks great.”

Paulo wished Alvaro would hug him.

But all Alvaro did was reach over and hold Paulo’s hand, giving it a squeeze that momentarily put all of Paulo’s pieces back together.  

Paulo closed his eyes and his tears dropped on Winnie’s smooth fur. He turned his hand around and clutched Alvaro’s as fiercely as he could.

“Hey,” Alvaro whispered. “You know what’s fun? You can put it all back together again.”

It made Paulo smile. It made Paulo brave enough to dive towards Alvaro in a hug he had no time to verbally ask for.

Alvaro chuckled and Paulo could feel the vibration in his bones. “We’ll build it together, ‘kay?” he said.

Paulo nodded.

Alvaro squeezed him so tightly he could barely breathe anymore, and it was something Paulo didn’t know he needed but which seemed to heal him, at least temporarily.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Alvaro asked. “You’ll feel better? Yeah?”

Paulo nodded again, and let Alvaro nudge him across the bed so he could get off without incapacitating himself with a Lego in the foot. Winnie was resting with her head between her paws and Alvaro gave her a nudge, too, telling her to ‘follow your daddy.’

Paulo sluggishly collected some clothes from his wardrobe. They smelled clean, so Paulo brought them to the bathroom. The towel there was damp and smelled weird so he had to make another trip to get a clean one. Alvaro appeared at the bathroom door when Paulo stepped back inside.

“Hey, don’t – don’t lock the door. Yeah?”

He looked nervous as he said it, like he wasn’t sure if he was going to offend Paulo. His eyes were unnaturally still, unmoving on Paulo’s face; like he was trying his hardest not to let them drift to the floor, right where less than a month ago, he’d found Paulo bleeding to death.

Paulo closed the door but didn’t lock it. Winnie settled on the toilet in what was appearing to be her favourite position, with her head between her paws.

He was simply too tired to take a proper shower, so he ended up crouching on the floor under the boiling stream of water, steam rising all around him. But no matter how hot the water dripping off his elbows and back seemed to be, it didn't seem to be eroding the thick coat of dirt that weighed on Paulo.

Only when Alvaro began knocking on the door did Paulo realise how long he must've been squatting there.

“You okay?” Alvaro’s voice was faint.

Paulo turned off the shower and stepped out.

“Can I come in?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo wasn’t sure what he mumbled but it made Alvaro open the door. He stepped inside and, upon seeing Paulo hunched over the basin trying to dry his raw, red skin, started to panic.

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over to Paulo and grabbing his wrists. “Oh. Paulo. Does it hurt? What did you do?”

“I’m dirty,” was all Paulo could offer.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered, and he was so soft and kind and patient but one look in his eyes and Paulo could see the dejected gaze, the completely _exhausted_ look on his face, and. And Paulo hated doing this to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” Alvaro said, dabbing at Paulo’s skin with a towel. He didn’t seem bothered that Paulo was stark naked. “Okay? Don’t say that. Stop saying that.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said helplessly.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly, like he wasn’t expecting Paulo to continue. He looked. He looked completely spent just by looking at Paulo. He looked irritated with himself when he didn’t manage to make Paulo less red. “Let’s get you cooled down a little, okay?” he said, pulling Paulo back into the shower.

The water was warm when Alvaro gently nudged Paulo under it. Paulo stood under it, unmoving, suddenly not sure what he was supposed to do with himself.

Alvaro stepped closer and took Paulo's hands again, but when Paulo remained still, let go and used his hands to softly stroke Paulo's shoulders. It seemed like the first human touch Paulo had experienced in months – which he knew for a fact wasn't true – and. And it just suddenly made Paulo feel so _alive._

Alvaro edged into the shower stream to turn the knob towards colder water. He stuck his forearm out and smiled when it reached a comfortable temperature.

“Better?” he asked.

He was fully clothed but just standing there under the warm water like it didn't bother him, looking soft and concerned about Paulo even though Paulo. Paulo was the most useless person in the entire world.

And he just wanted to hug his Alvaro.

The shower was making it hard to cry but Paulo felt it bubbling out of him. He dipped his head half to hold it in and half as a response to Alvaro.

Alvaro dragged his hand over Paulo's forehead, slicking Paulo's wet fringe back on his head. He smiled at Paulo when Paulo peered up at him, and pulled Paulo in for a hug as if he knew that was exactly what Paulo was too afraid to ask for.

“You're gonna be okay,” he whispered, his wet t-shirt squelching as he squeezed Paulo tightly.

Paulo wanted to ask how he knew that. He didn’t gather enough energy.

It was peaceful in Alvaro’s arms. It was quiet, and Paulo. Ironically, Paulo felt like he had space to think about nice things when he was standing in Alvaro's arms. He felt like time stopped while he was there, nestled in his favourite place in the universe. Sure, Paulo hadn't always felt welcome there, but it was still his number one.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before Alvaro gave him another squeeze and said, “Hey. Why don't you get dressed and have a nap? Yeah?”

“Come with me,” Paulo mumbled.

Alvaro gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, just. Just let me clean up first, 'kay?”

Paulo let himself be nudged out of the shower. He stood in the middle of the bathroom floor dripping water as Alvaro gently dabbed him dry with the towel that Paulo didn't remember being so soft. He watched the pool of water under him grow bigger as Alvaro's drenched shirt contributed to it. He dragged his head and arms through the holes of the t-shirt Alvaro pulled over his head.  

“Why don’t you wait outside?” Alvaro asked. “I’ll just get myself dry.”

Paulo decided to sit on the toilet to wait. He put Winnie on his lap and stroked her damp fur.

Alvaro showered with his back to Paulo, like he was self-conscious about being naked in front of him. He wiped the floor with one of the dirty towels and threw it in the laundry basket, then held out his hand for Paulo to hold.

Paulo followed him to the bed with Winnie draped drowsily over his arm. He crawled under the covers that Alvaro lifted.

The bed Paulo was in seemed cold and empty without Alvaro. That feeling, that deep punch in the gut that happened whenever Paulo realised he had to sleep without Alvaro, had been happening increasingly frequently.

Paulo liked to think it was a good sign, despite him physically and mentally feeling otherwise. Paulo’s subconscious had never lied to him.

“Alvi,” he called as Alvaro walked to the door.

“Yeah?”

Paulo patted the space next to him.

Alvaro looked. He suddenly looked so frightened.

Like he was reliving that night.

Paulo got it. He really. He did.

So when Alvaro didn’t respond, Paulo shut his eyes and willed his heart to stop trying to plan its escape from the grilles of his ribcage. “It’s okay,” he whispered, trying not to cry.

Alvaro stood there for a while longer, then dipped the bed as he climbed hesitantly into it. He lied on his side next to Paulo and grabbed one of Paulo’s hands in both of his, and Paulo. Paulo felt his entire being, his entire mind and soul, suddenly relax.

Sure, Paulo berated the fact that he was needlessly clingy to Alvaro. He hated the fact that he was so selfish, he was the most selfish person in the universe for trying to keep Alvaro close for every day of his life, especially after telling himself and everyone else that he wasn’t going to.

But this tiny part of him, just this tiny part – clung on to the hope that he was going to get better and that Alvaro was going to be his reward at the end of this very long road. This same part of him just _knew_ that he and Alvaro were meant to be, they had _always been_ meant to be, from the first day. Paulo and Alvaro. Nothing could ever tear them apart.

“Sweet dreams, Pau,” Alvaro whispered.

And oh, did Paulo have the sweetest dreams he remembered ever having in his life.

\------

When Paulo woke up, the room was dark and Alvaro was gone.

Paulo rolled over and pressed his nose into the pillow Alvaro had been lying on. It still smelled strikingly like him.

Paulo inhaled deeply. The scent soothed him.

The bathroom door was closed but the light shone out of its perimeter like the closet in Narnia. Paulo was drawn to it like a moth, getting out of bed like he was on autopilot and slowly turning the doorknob.

Alvaro was sitting on the toilet, staring at the vague, rust-coloured outline of what had been Paulo’s blood on the floor in front of him, and crying. He didn’t notice Paulo standing at the door, but despite Paulo wanting with all his heart to go over and kneel in front of Alvaro and tell Alvaro he was sorry, his legs had turned to iron and he couldn’t find the strength to move them.

Alvaro only noticed Paulo when he shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, causing a movement in the mirror that caught Alvaro’s eye. He shot up from his seat in such a hurry he seemed to black out briefly.

Paulo started walking towards him but Alvaro came over to him instead, hastily wiping his cheeks. He squeezed past Paulo in the doorway.

“I made dinner,” he said, voice thick.

Paulo was filled with what was beginning to be an overwhelming dread that despite Alvaro insisting otherwise, he was still very much angry at Paulo for trying to kill himself.

Alvaro stopped a few steps behind Paulo, reached for him, and held on to his hand. He gave it a squeeze, like he was telling Paulo that they should go outside.

It dawned on Paulo that Alvaro had probably been sitting in the bathroom not because he wanted to stare at Paulo’s dried blood and feel sorry for himself but – but because he wanted to be on guard and make sure Paulo didn’t try it again. Even though it upset him, even though it meant he relived, probably a thousand times a minute, that night he found his life trickling into the bathroom tiles in the form of Paulo’s blood.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

Alvaro was _there_ and he was _trying_ _his best_ and for Paulo, that would always, always be enough.

“Mariano had to go home and look after your mom,” Alvaro’s voice had returned pretty much to normal when they reached the kitchen. “She’s fine. She’s just been feeling really tired lately.”

Paulo nodded. He wanted to ask what was for dinner because he was suddenly really hungry, but he couldn’t find the words.

“There’s paella,” Alvaro continued, as if he’d heard Paulo ask the question. “And chicken, and some salad. Mariano took some home. There’s enough for the two of us.”

“Cool,” Paulo finally managed to say. Cool. _Cool?_ Who even _said that_?

Paulo sat at the kitchen island and watched as Alvaro flitted around scooping all the food into plates. He wanted so badly to get up and help Alvaro but. But he just _couldn’t_.

Alvaro sat across from Paulo at the island after putting all the dishes on the table. He gazed eagerly at Paulo waiting for him to pick up his utensils, though it was obvious he tried to mask it a little, like he felt guilty for feeling any positive emotions in front of Paulo.

“Do you want to eat outside?” he asked. “Watch TV?”

Paulo felt himself nod, so Alvaro picked up the plates again and brought all of them outside as Paulo gingerly slid off the stool. His legs still felt weak, though he didn’t understand why.

Alvaro returned to the kitchen before Paulo made it out of there. He took one look at Paulo standing by the stool, one hand on the seat to balance himself. Then he went in front of Paulo and crouched, gesturing for Paulo to climb on his back.

Paulo didn’t want to.

Not because the thought of physical contact with Alvaro irked him – in fact, the thought of physical contact with anyone else did irk him, but not with Alvaro – but because Paulo, for the first time in a long time, thought he could do it himself.

“I’ll walk,” he said.

Alvaro seemed overjoyed to hear that. He stood up straight and watched Paulo walk out of the kitchen, taking tiny steps behind him. Paulo’s legs felt lighter the more he used them, and he found himself thinking that maybe he could go out to the park for a walk sometime. Or a jog.

Maybe he could get Alvaro to go with him.

They had a quiet dinner in front of the TV. Winnie snoozed at their feet, her snoot on a couch cushion that Alvaro laid down for her. The clinking of their utensils on the plates was the only sound that could be heard over the seven o'clock news.

“When do you have to go back for preseason?” Paulo surprised himself by breaking the silence.

“I called and told them I'll miss preseason,” Alvaro said after the briefest pause.

“Oh,” Paulo said.

“I, uh,” Alvaro continued, sitting up straight and putting his empty plate on the table. “I called Juve, too, and – and I told them you're gonna join late because of some personal problems. I hope – I hope that's okay. I'm...I'm sorry, I –”

Paulo shook his head but didn't find the right words to say in that moment. There was a beat of silence before he managed to say, “It's fine.”

“I mean, I – I don't wanna run your life for you.”

Paulo nodded this time. “Yeah, I'm – it's fine. I can't make it back anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to go back?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro shook his head slowly. “This is more important,” he said, hesitantly, like he wasn't sure if it was what Paulo wanted to hear.

Paulo smiled at him to tell him it was exactly what he wanted to hear. Alvaro beamed back at him, relieved.

“C'mon,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand for Paulo. “Let me show you something.”

Paulo took his hand. He was led to the guestroom, which had been a complete mess when Paulo had last left it; it was all cleaned up, the Lego bricks arranged according to colour and placed in individual plastic bags. The floor was clean but the sheets were unchanged; the set of clean sheets lay at the foot of the bed.

“I thought you'd like to do it,” Alvaro whispered. “'Cause, you know, you started cleaning it, and now you're gonna finish cleaning it too.”

Paulo couldn't think of anything to do but to walk straight into Alvaro and wrap him up in the tightest hug Paulo could afford to give. Alvaro always understood him. Even when he thought he didn’t – even when he _didn’t,_ he still did, just in a different way. And Paulo just. Paulo loved him so much. He loved Alvaro in a way that hollowed him out, that emptied his lungs of any air, but it never stopped him from wanting to spend the rest of his life with Alvaro.

“Thank you,” he said.

Alvaro gave a chuckle that Paulo felt down to his bones. “It’s okay to want some help, yeah?” he said softly. “It doesn’t make you weak.”

Paulo nodded. He pulled out of the hug. “I’ve always been bad at chores,” he said.

Alvaro laughed, this time sounding more carefree. “C’mon. We’ll each take a side.”

Between them, the fitted sheet was easily wrapped over the corners of the mattress and the covers draped over it. They tucked the edges underneath but Paulo turned one of the corners, joking about how he was going to provide Alvaro with turnover service, and Alvaro laughed so loudly Paulo thought it was going to echo around in his ribcage forever.

“How’d you get the Legos sorted?” Paulo asked, squatting by the bags and examining them.

“They had different numbers on the underside,” Alvaro said. “So Mariano and I just sorted them according to that. It should be correct.”

“It must’ve taken a long time,” Paulo whispered.

“Nah,” Alvaro said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet next to Paulo’s. When Paulo turned to him, he was smiling. “What do you wanna do now?”

“Maybe...maybe play some FIFA?”

Alvaro looked utterly overjoyed at that suggestion. In fact, he looked overjoyed at anything Paulo said, as if it all meant the world to him.

They played FIFA for hours and Alvaro didn’t even pretend to be shitty to let Paulo win. He was just. He was _himself_ and for those few hours, Paulo felt like they had returned to the way they’d been before. He loved seeing Alvaro so happy. He loved seeing Alvaro forget everything, even if it was only for a while.

Paulo fell asleep on the couch after taking his medication. He wasn’t really aware of it, just that he woke up to a dark room with the TV off and the controllers back on the coffee table. Alvaro was asleep sitting up next to him, his head propped up on the back of the couch with one of the cushions. Winnie was still small enough to sprawl out on his chest, limbs in all directions, soundly asleep as well. One of Alvaro’s hands was wrapped around Winnie and the other was curled around Paulo’s extended ankle, a warm weight on it that served as a reminder to Paulo that Alvaro would always be there.

A warm weight that served as a reminder to Paulo that Alvaro took all the responsibility upon himself to make sure that Paulo didn’t escape in the middle of the night and try to slice himself open again.

Paulo was tempted to take a photo but realised he hadn't touched his phone in a month. Alvaro's phone, though, was lying next to the controllers. Paulo's sudden obsession with chronicling this peaceful moment in a photograph led him to reach for it.

The passcode was still the same – Paulo's birthday, 1511, even though Paulo had told him a million times before how easy it was for people to tell what numbers he was pressing because of all the ones.

Paulo hit the Instagram app. His account was still entered with Alvaro's, for when he used to scroll through Instagram using Alvaro's phone because he was too lazy to fetch his own. He went to his feed and opened the camera for a new story.

He took a photo of Alvaro and Winnie and posted it to his story with a little red heart and Alvaro's tag.

Then he sat there, curled up on himself save for the ankle Alvaro was holding on to, and watched Alvaro sleep.

It was something Paulo had sorely missed doing. He missed having someone around in the darkest hours of the night, when he awoke and felt like he was the only person in the universe. He missed watching Alvaro just... _be Alvaro_ ; he missed the Alvaro that was so thoroughly himself because he didn’t know he was being watched. The current Alvaro – he seemed to be on edge all the time, tiptoeing his way around Paulo, like something was holding him back.

Maybe Paulo was the one holding him back.

Paulo wanted to let go. He wanted to let go almost as much as he wanted to keep holding on. He wanted to let Alvaro live his own life without having to worry about Paulo every minute of every day.

But Paulo was selfish and he loved Alvaro with all his selfish little heart.

Alvaro jolted awake ten minutes later, his hand squeezing tightly around Paulo’s ankle so it left a mark when Alvaro uncurled his fingers. He gazed around frantically, only seeming to settle when his eyes landed on Paulo.

Paulo suddenly couldn’t remember a time when Alvaro didn’t wake up like this.

“Sorry,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro smiled, looking a little confused. Winnie slid off his chest when he sat up but he caught her before she fell off. “Do you want to go to bed?” he asked.

Paulo nodded. He handed Alvaro's phone back to him. “I was –” he started, then suddenly lost the words. “Instagram.” he finished.

Alvaro didn't seem to mind a little bit. He took his phone and put it back on the coffee table, then walked slowly behind Paulo as they headed to Paulo's room.

Alvaro stood at the door for a while and Paulo's heart ached with the desire to ask him to stay.

He stepped closer to the bed to place Winnie in the space next to Paulo. Then, when Paulo continued watching him, he defied everything his brain was clearly telling him not to do and sat down at the edge of the bed.

“Are you bored?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro shook his head.

“Are you sick of me?”

Alvaro shook his head again. “No,” he whispered. “And I hate that you would ever think that.”

“I just don't want you to stay because you feel like you have to. I want you to stay because –”

“Because I want it. Yeah. I want to stay.”

Paulo pressed his cheek into the pillow. “I keep thinking that I should let you go,” he whispered.

Alvaro stared at him like he didn't know what to say.

“Why don’t you go?” Paulo asked.

“Because I don’t want to,” Alvaro repeated, for at least the hundredth time. Patiently. It scared Paulo, because Alvaro had never been a patient person. “I’ve already told you that.”

Paulo peered up at him. Alvaro’s gaze remained unmoving on Paulo’s face.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go,” Alvaro said.

Paulo shook his head and was instantly filled with the most intense hatred for himself.

Alvaro smiled a wry smile. He placed his palm on Paulo’s forehead, slicking his hair back.

“Go to sleep, Paulo,” he whispered. His hand remained on Paulo’s head.

Paulo closed his eyes but for the first time in the longest time he remembered, he didn’t want to fall asleep. The fact that he felt himself being pulled into slumber so easily made the possibility of spontaneously combusting so attractive.

\------

Alvaro spent his nights barely sleeping.

He couldn’t rest even when Paulo was safely in bed; they were at home now and there were no nurses at their beck and call to help them out if something happened to Paulo while Alvaro was sleeping. There was no one. Just Alvaro, alone.

He found himself jolting awake at least once every hour, his fist instinctively curling around what it found first, the pang of disappointment and momentary fear when it wasn’t Paulo almost too much for Alvaro to handle.

He spent hours on end just sitting in Paulo’s bed, next to his sleeping figure, staring at the photo Paulo had posted on his Instagram story, which Alvaro had screenshotted to keep. He stared at it so hard that the big red heart formed a floaty grey figure in his vision.

Paulo rarely woke up in the middle of the night. He still slept on one side of the bed, like he was used to with Alvaro around. It was peaceful sitting next to him; more so than if Alvaro was sitting in the guestroom alone, without eyes on Paulo.

Alvaro went with him to his therapy sessions. He spent the two hours napping in the waiting room, so it was a win-win situation. Sometimes Franco came with them, and sat quietly next to Alvaro flipping through the waiting room magazines. He never gave Alvaro any shit for scaring himself awake grasping nothing but air. He offered to help out, but Alvaro felt bad asking Franco to dedicate a whole chunk of his time to looking after Paulo, so he never accepted.

Paulo went out to the park every morning for a jog; he wasn't fit enough to actually do any running yet, so he just kind of jogged with tiny little shuffles while Alvaro, exhausted, walked next to him with Winnie tugging on her leash begging him to move faster. Paulo didn't really ask Alvaro to go with him. He just sort of stood next to Alvaro and told Alvaro what he wanted to do, and then Alvaro would give in to his beautiful natural puppy eyes and do whatever Paulo wanted to do.

Even though they spent every second of every day together, neither of them ever mentioned that photo of Alvaro sleeping.

Isco, on the other hand, acted like they were in school again and Paulo was Alvaro’s crush who’d posted a photo of Alvaro with a giant red heart. He bothered Alvaro endlessly about it, like it was high school gossip instead of Alvaro’s, you know, real life.

Alvaro knew he was just concerned. Everyone Alvaro knew was concerned about Paulo and Alvaro’s relationship. But it wasn’t Alvaro’s priority. He just wanted his Paulo to be okay. If this entire thing had taught Alvaro anything it was to look more at the bigger picture. So despite Alvaro really wanting to know how Paulo felt about him, he realised it didn't really matter. He thought about it a lot, but. But he told himself again and again that it didn't matter.  

After the fifth time of waking up grasping the sheets next to Paulo and nearly waking him up, Alvaro decided maybe it was time to find another way to spend his nights.

Over the past few days he had already gone through the entire apartment and thrown away everything that Paulo could've used to hurt himself; all the razor blades and old medications were long gone, and all the knives, scissors, and sharp utensils were hidden away in a drawer with a child-safe lock _and_ a new lock whose key Alvaro had hidden outside under Paulo's frog figurine. Paulo's colour pencils were blunt and only allowed to be sharpened when Alvaro was around. Sometimes Alvaro felt like all this was a little bit too disruptive to Paulo's freedom but it was solid advice from Marie so Alvaro just took it.

Besides, all of this didn’t stop Paulo from standing in front of the mirror for at least fifteen minutes every day and staring at his own neck like he was willing it to explode.

Alvaro wandered back to his room – well, it was still more just a room than _his_ room – and picked up some of the plastic bags of Lego bricks from the same set. He managed to ignore the gravitational pull that tried to drag him towards Paulo’s presence and the murmur in his head that told him he wasn’t allowed to take his eyes off Paulo for this long, long enough to find a manual that matched the numbers on the bottom of the bricks.

The only space he could find to sit down and put them together was outside Paulo’s half-open door, where he could see that Paulo was safe while he tried to figure this whole Lego thing out without waking Paulo up with all the clanking.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, he was so tired. And this whole Lego thing, despite being marketed generally for children, was hard as fuck, and Alvaro couldn't wrap his head around why Paulo enjoyed it so much and how he was so _good_ at it – he never had, and in his sleepless haze he realised he probably never would, and for some reason that mix of emotions and thoughts and his exhaustion made him start to cry.

Once he started, he couldn't stop. It was probably the past days since Paulo returned home, all built up inside Alvaro, for so long threatening to erupt out of him and on that day finally doing so. Alvaro's thoughts just went on and on like a train without brakes, not stopping even though Alvaro desperately wanted to stop crying.

The random chunks of Legos in his hands, haphazardly put together, suddenly seemed so lame. Alvaro was never going to get this. He was never going to get to love Paulo again.

He didn't realize Paulo had awoken and was standing in his doorway watching Alvaro until he stepped forward and squatted down next to Alvaro, hugging his knees to himself, sleepy eyes furiously darting all over Alvaro’s face.

Alvaro couldn’t even feel embarrassed. He didn’t have the energy. He just sat there, loosely clutching the Legos, and cried and cried because he had never felt so helpless and useless in his entire life. He swore he never wanted to let Paulo see how upset he was but he just _couldn’t stop crying_.

Paulo got on his knees closer to Alvaro and wrapped his arms around Alvaro's head, pressing it protectively into his chest. Alvaro melted into his grasp, feeling himself relax just the slightest. Paulo smelled. He smelled like medicine. Alvaro wasn't sure what exactly but Paulo just smelled like medicine. Alvaro pushed his cheek into Paulo's collarbone. He didn't say anything but he was holding Alvaro so _tightly_ and Alvaro hadn't felt this complete in weeks.

Paulo eventually sat down next to Alvaro and picked up the Lego manual. He took a quick look at it and then began handing Alvaro Lego blocks, nudging them against Alvaro’s hand until he took them, then gesturing his hands to tell Alvaro the way he should put them together.

Alvaro had stopped crying by the time he put the tiny red firetruck together. He turned to Paulo and the corners of Paulo's lips curled upwards encouragingly. He stood up, holding the empty plastic bags and the manual, and held his hand out for Alvaro.

Alvaro took it and was led back to the guestroom. Paulo dumped everything he was holding near the remaining plastic bags, then took the firetruck and placed it on the table. He peeled the edge of the sheets out from under the mattress and gestured for Alvaro to get in.

Alvaro did so, despite every cell in his body crying for him not to go to sleep and leave Paulo alone.

They went silent when Paulo climbed in after Alvaro and lied there next to him, facing the ceiling like Alvaro was.

Then he slid his hand under the sheet to find Alvaro's, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Alvaro's fingers that had been tailor-made for him. When Alvaro mustered enough courage to turn to him, his head was turned and he was gazing at Alvaro with concerned, hooded eyes.

It amazed Alvaro that despite everything Paulo was going through, he still had room in his beautiful heart and his beautiful mind to wholeheartedly care about someone else.

Alvaro squeezed his hand and the upward curl of Paulo's lips returned. He closed his eyes and gave a little sigh.

Alvaro did the same.

He had the most peaceful sleep he'd ever had in his entire life.

\------

The following night, Alvaro found himself sitting outside Paulo's door again, trying to put together a bigger Lego set without crying.

He couldn't. He was afraid that it was a sign, that it meant something. That it meant there was something Alvaro couldn't do.

The bright red digits of the clock read 11.06 when Alvaro picked up his phone and called Franco.

“Hey,” Franco said.

He sounded far away, which made Alvaro ask, “Are you still in Buenos Aires?”

“Yeah,” Franco said. “We were back in Córdoba for a couple days to deal with some things, but we're back here now.”

“When are you going back to Spain?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

Alvaro sighed. He suddenly realised how selfish it was of him to just try to disrupt Franco's life.

“What is it?” Franco asked. “Hey. Morata. You can tell me.”

“I just –” Alvaro's voice caught in his throat, so he cleared it before continuing. “I – I haven't slept much these days, and I just – I can't sleep knowing that there's no one watching Paulo, but I – it's just, I'm so tired and there's no one to watch him and I –”

“I'll be right over,” Franco interrupted. “Yeah?”

Alvaro shut his eyes and hot, exhausted tears escaped down his cheeks. “I just don't want to trouble you,” he whispered.

“It's no trouble at all,” Franco said. “Okay? Isco's asleep but I –” he was interrupted by a series of murmurs. “Never mind, he's not asleep anymore. We'll be right there.”

Alvaro sat helplessly on the ground until the soft knocks on the door a half-hour later forced him to get up. Franco was dressed, but Isco was standing there in his pyjamas under his robe and his bedhead reaching the sky. It almost made Alvaro laugh.

Winnie, sensing more people around to play with, came trotting by with a chewy bone in her mouth. She put it down in the middle of everyone and sat there waiting for attention.

Isco was the only one who paid her any, though he picked her up and she started licking him all over the face and it was obvious he was still half asleep so he gave a little confused ‘oh’ and put her back down.

“I’m just – I’m gonna take a nap,” he yawned as he made his way to the couch and flopped over the back of it right into a comfortable reclined position. “And when you guys are done, you can – and I’ll be awake, and you – we can take shifts. Night.”

Then he promptly fell asleep and Franco gave a little ‘tsk’ from where he was standing carrying a duffel bag. “What do you need help with?” he asked.

“I just need some sleep,” Alvaro said. “Just a little while. Could you just. Just watch him? For a while?”

“Sure,” Franco smiled. He went over to the couch and pushed his way under Isco, who he let rest between his legs and on his chest. “I'll be right here. I can see him.”

Alvaro went to the kitchen and got them two bottles of water, placing it on the coffee table and handing Franco the remote control so he could watch TV if he wanted to, given he was practically trapped under Isco, who had wrapped around him like a vine. Then he started to clear up the mess of Legos he’d left on the ground.

“Morata,” Franco called softly. “Go to bed.”

“But –”

“Leave it.”

Alvaro shuffled back into the guestroom and sat down on the bed. He felt. It was a little bit weird, just leaving Paulo like that. It wasn’t that Alvaro didn’t trust Franco – because even though Alvaro would never admit it to anyone, he trusted Franco with his _life_ – but it was just. Just the act of going to sleep without knowing if Paulo was safe.

He tiptoed to his door and saw Franco looking at the TV. He turned to Paulo’s bedroom door every once in a while, just to see he was still asleep in bed. Mostly, he cooed Isco back to sleep when he fidgeted.

When Franco turned back to the TV, Alvaro took the little gap he had to slip into Paulo’s doorway. Paulo looked so beautiful when he was asleep. His cheek was pressed to the pillow – the one next to his, the one that Alvaro usually sat near or slept on – and his mouth was hanging open. One of his hands was under the pillow and the other was gently clutching a fistful of sheets.

Alvaro wanted so badly to tell him he loved him.

“Morata,” Franco called again. “Go.”

“Okay,” Alvaro whispered to himself. He went back to his own bed and wrapped the sheets tightly around himself.

A couple minutes later Isco came dragging his feet into the room, taking off his robe and inviting himself into bed with Alvaro. He tugged at the blanket until Alvaro spared him a few inches, then latched himself onto Alvaro's back like a jetpack.

“G'night, Alvarito,” he murmured.

Alvaro couldn't make up his mind about whether it was Franco who'd made him do this or if Isco just did it himself because he was like _that._

But he had to admit it was nice having someone hold him together, so he closed his eyes and let the thoughts in his head run themselves weary.

\------

Paulo was met with a mixture of confusion and disappointment when the person in his couch the next morning was Franco and not Alvaro.

Well, the _people_ in his couch were Franco and Isco. Cuddling under a thick blanket, sharing a giant cup of coffee.

“Hey,” they said in unison the moment Paulo stepped out of the room, like they'd been paying attention to him.

“Hi,” Paulo said. Winnie came to greet him good morning, so he picked her up. “Why are you here?”

“Just to chill,” Franco smiled. “We're leaving for Spain tomorrow. Thought we'd hang out a bit.”

“Where’s Alvi?” Paulo asked.

“He’s asleep,” Isco said sleepily. “Guess he’s really tired. Didn’t even wake up once.”

Paulo had an inkling that Alvaro had called Franco and Isco over to watch him while Alvaro went to sleep. He tried to push it to the back of his head. Alvaro only cared. Alvaro only cared and he wasn’t doing it because he didn’t trust Paulo anymore. _He only cared_.

The guestroom door was wide open. Alvaro was sleeping with his back to it, curled up tightly with the sheets. Paulo watched him from the door for a while before sitting down gingerly at the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake Alvaro because it seemed like the first time in forever that Paulo was awake when Alvaro was sleeping. He seemed the most peaceful in weeks. Paulo had to fight the urge to place his hand on Alvaro’s back.

“Do you know?” he whispered. “How much I love you?”

Alvaro continued sleeping.

Paulo went back outside and found a pile of Legos by the side table outside his bedroom door. He picked up the manual and examined it. Winnie slid out of his arms and slunk away to do her thing.

“Alvaro was putting it together,” Isco said.

“Hey, do you wanna do the Tokyo set?” Franco asked.

Paulo shook his head. “I’m going to the park.”

Isco and Franco exchanged glances, like Alvaro hadn’t instructed them what to do and now they were a little lost. Then they turned back to Paulo.

“I go for a jog every morning,” Paulo continued when they continued staring at him, confused. “And Alvaro takes Winnie for a walk.”

“We’ll go with you,” Franco said immediately.

“Yeah, we’ll walk Winnie.”

Paulo turned in the direction of the guestroom. Alvaro was still in the same position, soundly asleep. He turned back to Isco and Franco. He didn’t want Alvaro to wake up all alone but he didn’t know how to tell them.

“Maybe I’ll stay,” Isco suggested. “I’ll make breakfast.”

It was a good idea. Franco seemed to think that way, too, so he was standing ready by the door with Winnie hooked onto her leash when Paulo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth and changing into his sweatpants.

If Franco thought that it was weird how Paulo was ‘jogging,’ he didn’t say a peep about it. He just walked by Paulo’s side, trying to keep Winnie in check. He seemed tempted to run along with her but stayed slow for Paulo’s sake.

“How big do you think she’s gonna grow?” he asked.

“Pretty big, I think,” Paulo said.

“I like it when they’re small,” Franco said. “They’re so cute. Like a little hairy baby.”

“You like small dogs?” Paulo asked. “Or big dogs?”

“I like all dogs,” Franco beamed. “You?”

“I like big dogs.”

“Isco has a very big dog,” Franco said. The way he said it, like the letters were somehow capitalised, made Paulo laugh. _Isco has a Very Big Dog_.

“You like it?” Paulo asked. “The very big dog?”

Franco laughed. “Yeah. I like the very big dog.”

Paulo realised it was a weird, disjointed conversation. But it was refreshing. It felt like being in a children’s storybook.

“Hey,” Franco said. “You know, about us being here?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you don't – you're not angry with Alvaro, or anything.”

“I'm not.”

“I mean, he just, you know?” Franco gestured with his free hand.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “He cares.”

“Yeah.”

“I just – I don't think he's slept in days,” Paulo said softly. “And I don't. I don't want him to worry about me.”

“I think he just doesn't want you to – yeah? Like...like you did. In the middle of the night, again.”

Paulo nodded. He couldn't explain the compulsiveness that had overcome him that night. He thought he never would be able to. And Alvaro wasn't the only one who was scared it would happen again – Paulo was, too.

“What if I told him about it?” Paulo wondered aloud. “You know, like if I wake up...like that, again, then I'll tell him, and he can stop me? You know? I mean, I'm – I don't know if I can control that. But it's just. Yeah.”

“Maybe tell him that,” Franco suggested.

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” Franco said. “It's nice seeing you finding ways to keep yourself alive.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. He _was_ trying his best. And he was glad someone could see it. “Thank you.”

“I'm very proud of you, Dybala.”

The run energised Paulo, as usual, which was why he went on it every morning despite sometimes feeling like he would die if he got out of bed. When they got home, Alvaro was awake and sitting at the kitchen island watching in horror as Isco piled onion slices into the scrambled eggs he was making. He was munching on some bacon from the plate next to him. Sausages sizzled in the pan next to the eggs.

“How was your run?” Isco asked, seeming to take the words right out of Alvaro’s mouth.

“Good,” Paulo said.

Isco beamed. “That’s great,” he said, attending to the eggs and sausages before they burnt.

“Can she eat that?” Paulo heard Franco ask. He turned and saw Winnie by Alvaro’s feet, her leash dragging on the ground behind her, and sniffing at the bacon that Alvaro was holding out for her.

Everyone turned to Isco immediately, though he took a while to realise. “Why are you all looking at me?” he demanded.

“You’re the dog expert,” Alvaro said.

“You have a very big dog,” Franco said, the same way he had before. _You have a Very Big Dog._

Paulo burst into laughter and everyone was distracted by him for a while. “Nothing,” he said sheepishly. “Go on.”

“A little bit should be fine,” Isco said.

Alvaro peeled off a little bit off the edge of the bacon strip. He held it to Winnie’s mouth; she sniffed at it a while longer before letting Alvaro put it in her mouth, then she plopped down on her butt and gnawed at it with full concentration.

“You can eat that, you know?” Alvaro said, like she would understand.

Winnie eventually swallowed it, though she didn’t seem to take a very particular liking to it. She just stood up again, gave Alvaro a disappointed glance, then trotted away with her leash still attached.

“Maybe she just hasn’t developed the taste for it,” Paulo suggested.

Alvaro followed hesitantly as Paulo got some clean clothes from his wardrobe, under the pretense of making Paulo’s bed – which was already immaculately made. Alvaro had probably made it while Paulo was out. Despite that, Alvaro sat on the edge of it and patted it a little so he wouldn’t look suspicious.

He was still sitting there when Paulo got out of the shower, eyes quickly examining Paulo’s arms for any sign of him scalding himself again. He appeared relieved when there were none.

“How are you this morning?” he asked as Paulo decided to sit next to him and try to figure out what he wanted.

He asked that every morning. Paulo loved, he _loved_ that Alvaro asked that every single morning.

“I’m okay,” Paulo smiled.

“Yeah?” Alvaro grinned, and he looked so well-rested and happy and it made Paulo’s heart burst.

“Alvi,” Paulo said. “You know...about how tired you are?”

“I’m not tired,” Alvaro said, way too quickly.

“I – just maybe, could I – maybe a suggestion?”

“Mmhmm? ‘Course.”

“I know that you’re scared of going to sleep because you’re afraid that I’ll – you know, that I’ll...in the middle of the night.”

Alvaro broke eye contact with Paulo and instead chose to focus on the floor between his thighs.

“But what if,” Paulo continued, grabbing Alvaro’s bicep so Alvaro would turn back to him. “If I wake up like that again, then I’ll call you? I’ll wake you up. Then you won’t have to worry about me all the time and you can get some sleep. Would you like that?”

Alvaro smiled. He took Paulo’s hand off his bicep and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, okay.”

“You trust me?”

“Of course.”

“I just don’t – I don’t know if it’ll work, for sure. I’m – you know that sometimes I don’t think straight.”

“I trust you.”

“I’ll make myself do it. I’ll make myself call you.”

“I think what matters the most is that you want to do it,” Alvaro said softly. “That you want help. I think that makes everything easier.”

“I do,” Paulo whispered. “Want help.”

Alvaro nodded, and he shifted closer to Paulo and gave Paulo a hug so hesitant it was practically just Alvaro draping his arms over Paulo’s shoulders. Paulo grabbed his waist and held him closer, feeling Alvaro's chuckle as a warm breath on his neck.

“Let's go have breakfast,” Alvaro whispered, like he, too, was reluctant to let go.

They gathered around the kitchen island for breakfast, each dragging a tall stool. Paulo placed his as close to Alvaro as he could get, so he sat with his left thigh and entire left body pressed up against Alvaro. If Alvaro had minded, he didn't say a word. He just sat there smiling and eating his bacon and onionless eggs as gracefully as he could with his impaired right arm.

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered, lowly, fully aware that Isco and Franco were sitting across from them and were probably listening and watching. “I know you’re really tired.”

Alvaro turned to him and smiled this. This gentle smile that Paulo had always loved so much. There was no pity. There wasn’t a single ounce of pity on Alvaro’s beautiful face. Just. Just pure, unadulterated love for his Paulo. His eyes were hooded as he gazed down at Paulo, the same look he’d always given Paulo right before they kissed.

Paulo wished Alvaro would kiss him. That he would just take Paulo away and kiss the hell out of him.

“I’m okay,” Alvaro whispered. “Are you?”

His face was so close to Paulo’s, Paulo could practically lean forward a little and press his lips on Alvaro’s. But he knew he wasn’t there yet. Sure, Paulo inched closer towards normality every single day. But he was still far from where he wanted to be, and he couldn’t let himself put the weight of the rest of this journey on Alvaro’s shoulders.

But if anything, it was the thought of kissing Alvaro again that pushed Paulo towards fully coping with what he felt every day about himself.

Paulo nodded and Alvaro’s smile grew. He wiped the small piece of egg hanging off Paulo’s lip with his thumb.

Alvaro took it as his personal responsibility to make sure Paulo took his medication, and that day after breakfast was no different. He got the pills from Paulo’s medicine box and gave them to Paulo together with a glass of water and watched as Paulo swallowed them in order. Then he followed Paulo to the fridge, where there was a calendar filled with stickers that he made Paulo put on whenever he took his pills. It was a fun incentive, given Alvaro knew how much Paulo liked silly looking tiny stickers of animals.

Paulo picked a pink seal and stuck it next to the zebra he’d chosen the previous night. Alvaro seemed pleased with it. He gave Paulo's hair a ruffle and went out into the living room.

Franco came up to Paulo with the box of Legos he'd brought back from Japan. He jiggled it a bit so the bricks rattled. “Wanna build this?” he asked.

Paulo sat down with him on the floor in front of the TV. They examined the manual, then proceeded to divide the bricks between themselves. The blinking glow from the TV illuminated the Lego pieces in a faint white tint.

Isco and Alvaro came to fill the spaces, making a circle. Isco picked up the manual and gave it a look-through, then edged closer to Franco and got all up in his space and picked up bricks he thought would fit and shoved them in Franco's hands. Franco didn't mind. He just took them and tried to put them together and sometimes it worked.

Alvaro just sat there, hugging his knees to himself, watching Paulo work with the slightest smile on his face, like he remembered Paulo had said that he could sit and watch because he was no good with his hands.

Paulo loved that Alvaro had never failed to let Paulo be free, to let Paulo live his own life. Despite their relationship and all the baggage it accumulated, Alvaro had always made it clear that Paulo's decisions were his, and his alone. He had always made sure Paulo knew that he had control of his own life. Sure, he did pry a lot, but he only wanted to _know._ He didn't ever pry with the intention of making Paulo's choices for him. Alvaro’s immature days were long behind him.

So Paulo understood if Alvaro didn't want to touch the Legos. Because they were Paulo's thing. And Paulo said he was going to build it with Franco while Isco and Alvaro could hang out, so that was exactly what was going to happen. Paulo said he wanted that, so Alvaro was going to give it to him.

Paulo loved how he would always be able to do his own thing and Alvaro would be right there, watching and supporting him.

It seemed so wonderfully strange to Paulo that sometimes, plans weren't just made. They were fulfilled.

Paulo wished that afternoon would never end.

\------

Isco and Franco flew back to Spain the next morning. Paulo wanted to go to the airport, so Alvaro went with him.

It was the farthest from his house or the hospital that Paulo had been in weeks. Instinct made Alvaro want to hold his hand; not because it would make Paulo safer, but because it made Alvaro feel safer. Since it wasn't the former, Alvaro didn't make any move.

Franco and Paulo hugged for a long time at the departure gate. They hugged so intensely that Alvaro felt like he had to give them some privacy, so he went away and pretended to examine the departure board.

“Hey,” Isco nudged his elbow. “You gonna be okay doing this alone?”

Alvaro wanted to point out that he _had_ been doing it alone, but he thought it made him sound a little spiteful, so he didn't. “I will, yeah,” he said instead.

“You could ask Paulo's brothers for help,” Isco suggested. “Why don't you two just move in with Paulo's mom?”

“I've asked Paulo about that. He said he doesn't want to burden everyone to have to look after two sick people in the same house. And that Gustavo and his family had moved in to take care of his mom, so it's a bit crowded.”

Isco went quiet for a while, then said thoughtfully, “I guess he'd be overwhelmed with all the people.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And maybe he just really wants to be alone with you.”

“Nah, I don't think it's that. I think sometimes he feels frustrated that I'm always following him around.”

“I think he'd rather it be you than anyone else in the world.”

Alvaro smiled. He liked to think that, too. “Thank you,” he said.

“Call me if there's anything, 'kay?”

Alvaro nodded. Franco started to call for them, so they went back.

Paulo stood silently as Isco and Franco disappeared into transit. He’d been quiet since everything happened, but since the previous afternoon he’d been particularly quiet.

“What do you want to do now?” Alvaro asked as they stepped out of the airport and to the taxi stand. There were still three hours until Paulo’s appointment with his therapist.

Paulo shrugged. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his puffy winter jacket. Then he said, “Breakfast?”

The detour to the city wasn't too long. Paulo seemed to be too anxious to decide what to eat – his medication made him that way sometimes – so Alvaro got him a raspberry pastry and a ham and cheese sandwich. He munched on them happily as they walked down the street. He kinda looked like those animals that had been released into the wild after years of being held captive. The wind was chilly but not too cold, and it was blowing through Paulo's hair, making it reflect brown in the sunlight.

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” Paulo asked. His hair had begun hanging over the nape of his neck and he was beginning to resemble his old lionhead days when Alvaro had first met him. He combed his hand through his hair and ended up with a handful of shedded hair – another side effect of his medication.

“It's up to you,” Alvaro said, watching as Paulo scattered his hair on the sidewalk.

“Do I look better with short hair?”

“You look very handsome either way.”

Paulo smiled shyly. “I think I'll cut it before it gives me rashes.”

Alvaro went with him to the hairdresser’s. Paulo looked like a little boy sitting in the hairdresser’s chair and Alvaro just. He suddenly wished that they hadn’t grown up.

“Are you coming with me to therapy?” Paulo asked. Alvaro found it a little weird, because it wasn’t the first time.

“Yeah,” he said, anyway. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Paulo mumbled.

Alvaro found out why a while later, when they were in the waiting room waiting for Marie to call Paulo in. Their coats were off but Paulo fiddled with the ends of the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling them to cover the scars on his wrists and then pulling them up to reveal the scars again. His fingers clenched tightly when a shadow appeared in front of them.

“Hi, Paulo,” Marie said kindly.

“Hi,” Paulo said.

Marie turned to Alvaro. “You must be Alvi,” she said with a smile.

“Alvaro,” Paulo snapped defensively, like he was the only one allowed to call Alvaro 'Alvi.’

“Alvaro,” Marie repeated without taking the slightest bit of offense.

“Hi,” Alvaro echoed.

“I'm glad you're here today,” Marie said. When Paulo curled up on himself, pulling his sleeves to cover both his fists, she seemed to realise they were all on different frequencies. “Paulo, did you…?”

Paulo shook his head, completely avoiding eye contact with everybody.

“Alvaro, how'd you like to join us inside today?” Marie asked.

Alvaro turned to Paulo but he was still curled up and trying his best to ignore everyone.

“Okay,” Alvaro said.

Paulo trailed behind as they went inside, so Alvaro turned around and grabbed his hand. Paulo didn’t take it into his grasp, just let his fingers curl around Alvaro’s.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Alvaro shook his head; sure, he was a little confused, but if Marie was doing this, it was probably going to help Paulo in some way. So whatever Alvaro had to do, he was just going to do it. He knew Paulo was just too afraid to ask Alvaro, anyway, and Alvaro wasn’t going to blame him for that.

“I think you should let go of my hand,” Paulo said softly.

Alvaro let go and Paulo deposited it right back in his front pocket. Alvaro felt his heart fall to the ground.

Marie's office was cosy. There was a three-seater cream sofa across from a single-seater grey armchair, separated by a glass coffee table. Paulo edged into the far end of the white couch. Alvaro followed him. Marie sat down across from them in the armchair.

Alvaro suddenly felt like he was in a TV show.

“How are you today?” Marie asked.

“I'm okay,” Paulo said.

“What has been your major emotion since the last time?”

Paulo glanced at Alvaro, but turned away when he met Alvaro's curious eyes.

“Wonder,” he whispered.

Marie smiled, first at Paulo, then at Alvaro. “Can you tell me why's that?”

“I'm –” Paulo stammered.

“Maybe I should – I should leave?” Alvaro asked.

“Oh, no, you should join us today,” Marie said. “I think Paulo's forgotten to tell you, but that's alright. You're here every time. I'd love for you to join us sometimes.”

The couch squeaked under Alvaro as he tried to settle down. He turned to Paulo again, and this time Paulo was looking at him. Alvaro gave him an encouraging smile.

“Why do you feel wonder, Paulo?” Marie asked.

“Because I feel that there's so many things that I hadn't realised before.”

“Like what?”

“People care about me a lot.”

“You think so?”

Paulo's eyes darted up to Alvaro's face again. “Yeah,” he said softly.

“That’s great, Paulo,” Marie said kindly. Paulo gave her a little smile and he looked a little proud of himself for figuring that out which made Alvaro’s heart so warm. “Alvaro, could you tell me a little bit about how you’ve been doing these last few weeks?” she asked.

“I’m –” Alvaro shrugged. “Just...taking things as they come.”

“You can just be honest,” she said with a smile. “I have a rule, and that is within the walls of this room, no one can be judged for what they say or feel. Deal?”

“Okay,” Alvaro said.

“And you have to be completely honest with me.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said again.

“I believe that you and Paulo need to talk.”

“We do talk.”

“You don’t,” Marie said. “You speak.”

No one had any response to that.

“Today, you two are going to talk to each other, okay?” she said. “Right here, you two are going to talk, and I’m going to try to help you. Okay?”

Paulo nodded. Alvaro followed suit.

“So how've you been, Alvaro? Maybe tell me what you do, what you think daily?”

Alvaro swallowed hard. Every day was the same, it was routine, because it seemed to benefit Paulo. “I wait for Paulo to wake up,” Alvaro started. “And we’ll go to the park and Paulo will jog while I walk our dog Winnie. It takes about an hour, then Paulo feels energised and we go home. I’ll make breakfast while he's showering, but I have to sit outside the bathroom and wait because if he takes too long I get worried and sometimes he still feels dirty or sometimes he just – just loses track of time. After breakfast we watch TV, or – I watch TV, and Paulo does some art stuff, like building his Legos or colouring. We usually have a light lunch, like sandwiches. Paulo's slowly getting back into social media so he spends some time on YouTube watching videos. I make dinner while he takes his nap. I don't really know – I'm usually just waiting around for him to wake up.”

“How do you feel about doing all these things every day?” Marie asked.

“I don't really think about it,” Alvaro said. “I just – I just deal with it as it comes. I'm sort of, like, numb to it. I don't think about it.”

“What if you think about it right now? What's the first thought that comes to your mind?”

“I –” Alvaro sighed. “I'm just so scared that – that he's sick of me. That I'm just following him around all day and he feels annoyed by it.”

“Do you feel that way?” Marie asked Paulo.

Paulo shook his head, and. And he looked heartbroken that Alvaro would even think that way. “I don't,” he whispered shakily.

“How do you feel about it, Paulo? Talk to Alvaro, not to me.”

“I like that you're around all the time,” Paulo said quietly. “It doesn't annoy me.”

“You never talk to me,” Alvaro whispered. “So I – I don't know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

“Try not to say sorry,” Marie urged.

Paulo gave a long, exhausted sigh. “Alvi, I just,” he said. “I feel that I'm being selfish by wanting to keep you close to me. I want to, but I – I shouldn't. You're just wasting your time with me when you could be doing so many other things.”

“I don't want to do other things. Paulo. I would do this every single day for the rest of my life.”

Paulo turned helplessly to Marie like he just didn't know what to say anymore.

“Do you think that there's anything you want out of this?” Marie asked Alvaro. “Is there an end goal that you have in your mind?”

“Not for me,” Alvaro said slowly. “Just for Paulo.”

“What is it?”

“For him to be happy.”

“Paulo, do you have anything to say about that?” Marie asked.

“I don’t think I know how to be happy,” Paulo whispered. “And it scares me that – that it’s the goal. That everyone’s goal is to be happy in their lives. Because I can’t – I don’t think I ever have. And I don’t think that I will ever be able to.”

“Alvaro?”

“I’m –” Alvaro stammered. He took a second to think. “Can I – can I change my goal?”

“Of course.”

“I want Paulo to be able to cope with not being happy.”

“That’s good,” Marie smiled. “Yeah. That’s great. Yeah? Paulo?”

Paulo dipped his head in response. He blinked a little like he was trying not to cry.

“Why are you taking care of me?” he asked.

And Alvaro. Alvaro felt like he'd already answered that question a million times.

“Because I care about you,” he said.

Paulo shook his head, and Alvaro knew he'd only been asked that question a million times because he had never told the truth in any of his answers.

“Because it’s my fault that you feel like this,” Alvaro said softly, trying to ignore the burning tears in his eyes.

Paulo dipped his head further, his tears making soft plops on his lap as they fell. “It’s not,” he whispered. “It’s not your fault.”

“The worst years of your life,” Alvaro said. “The worst years. They were spent waiting for me, weren’t they? They were spent wondering if I was telling the truth, if I loved you like I said I did. I made you wait for six years, Paulo. Six years. For six years, you wondered whether you were worth it at all to me. I made you do that. You – that does something to you. I made you like this.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” Paulo asked. “If you’re the reason I’m like this, why don’t you leave me?”

“Because I have to make it right,” Alvaro said, desperate for Paulo to understand; in that moment, he realised he was as close to understanding how Paulo felt than he would ever be. “I have to make everything right. It’s not mutually exclusive, Paulo. I can be both. I can want to stay because I want to make it up to you _and_ because I care about you. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

A long, long silence, like Paulo didn’t know what to say. Alvaro didn’t either. He desperately wanted Paulo to say something, to say he understood.

To say he wanted Alvaro to stay.

“Paulo?” Marie urged softly, like she was really trying her best not to butt in. “How do you feel about that?”

“I just feel that it’s so unfair,” Paulo sobbed. “That you’re taking care of me, cleaning up all my messes. And I can’t give you anything back.”

“You don’t have to,” Alvaro said. “They’re not just your messes. They’re mine, too.”

“It’s just unfair,” Paulo said. “That you feel stuck with me.”

“I don’t feel stuck with you,” Alvaro said desperately, because that was. That was the exact opposite of what he was trying to say. “Paulo, I don’t fucking – I don’t feel stuck with you. I _want to be with you_. Why don’t you understand that? I just want to be with you and I want to make breakfast for you every day and wait for you outside the bathroom and make sure you’re doing okay because it would _kill_ me if I had to spend one day apart from you. It would kill me, Paulo Dybala.”

Paulo seemed to curl up even more on himself. He had hiked his sleeves up to his elbows and was currently running his thumb over his long vertical scar, stopping at the T-intersection it made with his smaller scar at his wrist from his first try.

“It would kill me, too,” he finally said, so softly Alvaro almost missed it. “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not your fault, okay?” Paulo sobbed. “Okay? I’ve felt like this – almost my entire life. Before I met you. I don’t – it’s just not your fault, okay? You didn’t make me like this. They’re not your messes to clean up. If anything, you – over these twelve years of being with you, of you loving me more than you love yourself, it’s – it’s made me better. You didn’t make me like this.”

“I think I at least have some part to play. And I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s just –” Paulo sighed. “It’s everything. It’s not you. You’re not responsible for this. And I don’t want you to live the rest of your life thinking that you’re the one who ruined me. Because you didn’t. I know you didn’t and that’s – that’s what’s most important. Okay?”

“Okay,” Alvaro whispered. “I’m just – I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve ever caused you, and that’s – that’s a lot of hurt. I’m sorry.”

Paulo sighed again. He turned to Marie, who gave him an encouraging nod.

“I forgive you,” Paulo said.

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked. He just. He just felt so _relieved_. He’d been apologising all this time but he hadn’t realised all he’d needed was for Paulo to acknowledge it.

“Yeah,” Paulo said, smiling the slightest little smile.

“What is it that you want?” Alvaro asked. “Paulo. Do you want me to stay or leave? It doesn’t matter what I want. Don’t tell me that you want me to stay just because I said I want to. Don’t tell me to stay if you think it’s gonna be bad for you. I just want to do what you think is best for yourself.”

Paulo closed his eyes and sighed loudly. “You know,” he started. “That feeling? That feeling I get in my tummy when I’m near you? Like it’s on fire? I don’t want that to ever go away. It makes me so – it makes me feel so alive. It makes me want to stay alive so I can keep feeling that way whenever I’m close to you.”

Alvaro couldn’t help but smile. He knew that feeling. He was very familiar with it. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to want you to stay, Alvi,” Paulo said. “That makes me so – so selfish. But I _want_ you to stay. You see? I’m – I don’t know.”

“I think you’ve been too unselfish your entire life, Paulo,” Alvaro said. “Sometimes – now maybe it’s time to think more about yourself and what you want.”

Paulo took a deep breath, then said, timidly, “I want you to stay, Alvi. I need you to stay. I think – I think it’s good for me.”

Alvaro felt his shoulders relax. He thought the entire room must’ve felt it with him.

He reached over next to him and curled his fingers around Paulo’s forearm, sliding it down towards Paulo’s wrist, feeling every curl and wrinkle of his large scar. “Then I’ll stay,” he whispered. “Always.”

Paulo smiled at Alvaro and Alvaro felt his heart instantly melt.

“Are we all okay with this now?” Marie asked softly. “Yeah? The both of you?”

Paulo and Alvaro nodded in unison.

“Any unresolved things about this that you want to take this opportunity to say?”

They shook their heads.

Marie laughed like she thought they were just adorable. “Alvaro, do you have any questions?”

“For you?” Alvaro asked.

“For me, for Paulo,” she shrugged. “Any questions. There’s nothing we can’t talk about here.”

“I – if I could ask Paulo something?”

Paulo nodded.

Alvaro pulled his hand back into his own lap. “What – what was the last straw?” he asked. “What was it that made you – that pushed you into that last part?”

Paulo turned his attention to the floor at his feet, and his hand wandered back to his scar, tracing it up and down a few times, across the entire T. Marie and Alvaro watched him.

“Was it because I said no?” Alvaro asked softly. “Was that what made you – what made you suicidal?”

“Just be honest, Paulo,” Marie said, which practically already gave Alvaro the answer.

Paulo's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He turned to Alvaro again and tears were streaming down his cheeks and Alvaro was so tempted to wipe them away.

“Yeah,” he mouthed.

Alvaro felt like melting into a puddle and seeping into the floor, never to come back. As much as they’d resolved it earlier about it not being Alvaro’s fault – it also was. _It was._

“Would you like to explain why?” Marie asked.

“I’m – I just –” Paulo stammered, his voice stuck in his throat. “It was. It was reckless and I didn’t think it through, so it was just. The proposal. It happened really quickly, really suddenly, and I guess I just couldn’t take it. And I felt that. That I couldn’t trust you. ‘Cause I’d believed, I really, really believed that you would say yes. We’ve talked about this before and you mentioned this year, and I just – maybe I just read too much into it. I thought too much about it. But I was – I thought that, you know, the one thing in my life that’s been constant, the one person that I knew I could trust forever. I thought that it was over. I thought that maybe – maybe this whole relationship, I had thought wrongly about it. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought it was. Maybe I was just – wrong. And I ruined everything by jumping in head-first like I always have. And it flipped my entire life upside down. I was – I was angry and upset and I was so – I was just so _angry_ with myself and I hated that I existed. I hated that – you know when you think about something embarrassing you did and then you feel that sort of tingly feeling like you just want to erase that memory? I felt that, but – but stronger. I didn’t wanna erase the memory of the proposal. I wanted to erase myself because I was the one who’d made it happen.”

“Even after – after I explained?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo nodded. “It’s just – it was me. I saw it...the way I wanted to.”

“Is there a version of this where you don’t blame yourself?”

Paulo gave a soft chuckle, even though all it did was urge more tears to fall down his cheeks. “Don’t think so,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault that you want to die.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

“No one’s,” Alvaro said, then shrugged. “Mine.”

A beat of silence.

“Alvi,” Paulo said softly. “You know what I’m really scared of?”

“Hmm?”

“That our relationship, any relationship that we’ll ever have,” Paulo gestured at the gap between them. “Will always be based on my tantrums. Remember how we got together? I threw a tantrum in the back of your car and got you and Mia to break up. That’s how we got together. And now, any relationship we have from this point, it’ll be because I tried to kill myself. If we get back together in the future – if we get married, it’ll be because I’d try to kill myself again if you said no, so you had to say yes. That’s how – that’s how you’re gonna see it, how everyone’s gonna see it.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Alvaro said, earnestly wiping his tears. “Any relationship we’ll ever have, it’ll be based on my love for you. Not because you threw some tantrum and made me give in to you. No. It’ll be because I love you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. “And depression is not a tantrum.”

“He's right,” Marie chimed in helpfully. Alvaro turned to her, grateful, because he felt like he was beginning to need help in this situation. She had a little proud look on her face. “Paulo, is this why you don't want a relationship with Alvaro?”

Paulo shrugged. He'd stopped crying but his shoulders were still shaking. “A little bit,” he whispered.

“You don't have to worry about what I think about you,” Alvaro said, just. Just so completely crestfallen that Paulo would reduce their relationship to just a silly tantrum. “You know that, Pau? I think you're the best.”

Paulo smiled shyly. His shoulders remained up as he squeezed his arms against himself. “I think you're the best, too,” he whispered.

“Do you want a relationship with Paulo, Alvaro?” Marie asked. “Just like before?”

“I – yeah,” Alvaro sighed. He gestured towards Paulo. “But if he doesn’t – Paulo doesn’t want that. It’s fine. I understand. He needs to take care of himself.”

“Paulo?” Marie asked. “Do you want a relationship?”

Alvaro already knew the answer, but he waited for it with bated breath, anyway.

Paulo shook his head.

Alvaro’s eyes were closed, trying fruitlessly to hold his tears in, when he vaguely heard Marie ask, “Why not?”

“It’s not because of me,” Paulo said in the saddest whisper. “Not because I want to take care of me. It’s because – I think that it would be unfair to Alvaro. I can’t give him what I used to. I can’t give him what I _want_ to. And I don’t think it’s fair that I get him and he gets stuck with someone who has depression. I just don’t – I don’t hate him, I don’t hate the idea of a relationship. I just. I just don’t think that we’re ready for how different it would be.”

“I am,” Alvaro said quietly.

“I’m not,” Paulo breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m not.”

Alvaro found just enough strength to dip his head in a nod. “Paulo,” he said. “You know that photo you posted of me sleeping?”

Paulo gulped loudly. “Yeah?” he whispered nervously.

“What did it mean?”

“I don't know,” Paulo said quietly. “Just thought – just thought you looked cute.”

The smile that ended up on Alvaro's face did not do justice to the sadness in his heart.

“Can I ask you something?” Paulo said.

It took Alvaro a while to realise that Paulo was asking him and not Marie. He hastily wiped his cheeks with his palms and nodded again.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“No,” Alvaro sobbed. “I’m not. I’m not angry with you.”

“Are you angry?” Paulo asked. “At all?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro blinked at his clasped fingers. “I’m angry that I wasn’t able to stop it from happening.”

Paulo gave a choked sob, and when Alvaro turned to him, he was curled up again, almost hugging his knees to his chest. He mumbled something but neither Alvaro nor Marie could make it out.

“Are you?” Alvaro asked. “Angry with me?”

Paulo sniffled loudly and sighed. “Sometimes,” he said, voice thick with tears.

Alvaro understood. He didn't want to, but he did. Paulo had come so unbearingly close to the freedom he'd wanted.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?” Paulo murmured.

“Do you still love me?”

Paulo squirmed like there were suddenly a thousand spiders in his hoodie. His shoulders heaved heavily as he sighed.

“Yes,” he said, voice blunted by tears.

Alvaro shut his eyes, suddenly wishing he could burrow his way into his own sweater and just sit there like a ball of cotton. His heart felt. It felt so full and yet so empty, so unsupported by Alvaro’s ribcage and only hanging from Alvaro’s chest by strings that were being pulled by Paulo.

They sat there in silence for – only God knew how long. Alvaro was distracted by the sound of blood flowing through his ears. His heart thumping against his chest shook his entire body like an earthquake.

“Our time is up,” Marie said to break the silence. Alvaro glanced upwards to see her with the same kind, encouraging smile on her face; the scene by Alvaro’s side was in stark contrast, with Paulo still curled up tightly on himself and sobbing. “Paulo, I’ll see you in a couple of days? Will Alvaro be joining us?”

“I don’t, um,” Alvaro said after a brief pause in which Paulo had made no attempt to answer Marie. “I think maybe I’d better not. Maybe...maybe it’s better if Paulo gets to...focus on himself. Instead of me.”

“You are a very big part of his life, Alvaro.”

Alvaro had nothing to say to that, so he shrugged. Marie stood up so he followed suit, but Paulo remained in his corner of the couch, avoiding eye contact with everybody.

“C’mon, Pau,” Alvaro whispered, tugging gently at Paulo’s arm until he unravelled. “Let’s go.”

Paulo let Alvaro pull him to his feet, then – then lunged straight at Alvaro, causing Alvaro to give a little grunt as he crashed against Alvaro’s chest, his arms wrapping so tightly around Alvaro they almost met at the front.

Despite where they were, in a therapist’s room with her watching their every move, it made Alvaro smile.

He gave Paulo a long, hard kiss on his temple, just to remind him that Alvaro would always, always be there, and that Paulo would always, _always_ be loved.

Paulo pushed his face into the crook of Alvaro’s neck and Alvaro suddenly realised how broken he had been and how that was the only thing in the world that would make him feel whole again.

“Alvaro,” Marie called softly. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

Alvaro was reluctant to leave Paulo alone but he was reassured by Marie that Paulo would be sitting outside and going nowhere with all the nurses watching everyone in the waiting room. He stood by the door as Marie closed it again.

“I know it must be difficult for you to see him like that,” she said. “But I think you’re doing very well.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. “Thank you. I just – just want him to be okay.”

“I’m sure you know that it’s not going to be easy.”

“I know it’s not. It hasn’t been. And it’s not – it’s probably not going to be so fast. I know that.”

“I think what’s important for Paulo now is to let him learn how to appreciate his own sense of accomplishment again,” Marie continued. “Let him do things by himself. Just slowly let go of him. I know it sounds difficult because you two – you two are just so defensive over each other. But you have to let him rediscover it himself. Slowly. Okay?”

Alvaro nodded. “I think he’s doing pretty well,” he said.

“You think so?” Marie smiled. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’m very proud of him.”

Marie gave Alvaro’s shoulder a squeeze. “I can imagine that it can’t be easy, taking care of him knowing that you can’t have what you had in the past,” she said. “At least not now. But I can tell that the two of you care about each other very much. That you love each other very much. So, just...hold on to that, yeah? You two will be fine.”

“Thank you,” Alvaro said, suddenly just so relieved that Marie believed in him.

“How’re you doing?” she asked. “Not about Paulo, but you know, like, how is Alvaro doing?”

Alvaro smiled. “I’m doing fine as long as I get to help Paulo.”

“I know how much you want him to be okay,” Marie said. “But try not to lose yourself in the process, okay?”

Alvaro nodded. “I'll try.”

“Good,” Marie beamed. “Call me if you have any questions.”

Alvaro thanked her again and then suddenly he was outside, in the waiting room, standing next to his Paulo, who was sitting in a chair and fiddling with the small scar on his other wrist, the one that didn’t have an accompanying vertical version.

They got back into the city to get lunch, which turned out to be just a couple of kebabs. Paulo ate slowly but surely, and had finished his portion when they passed an ice cream deli. He peered eagerly through the window, though he said nothing to Alvaro – in fact, he had said zero words since they’d stepped out of the hospital – and Alvaro eventually caved and dragged him inside even though it was still winter and freezing cold. At least their ice creams wouldn’t melt.

Paulo jabbed his finger at the pistachio flavour and Alvaro got him a scoop in a chocolate cone. He chomped on it happily as they headed down the street, with his lips instead of his teeth because it was cold and they were sensitive.

He didn’t say anything when Alvaro brought him to the supermarket because they were running out of food. He just walked silently next to Alvaro, timing his footsteps so his feet didn’t touch any tile borders. Occasionally, he saw something he wanted and didn’t hesitate to pick it off its shelf and place it in their shopping cart.

They were still carless, so Alvaro called an Uber and they waited outside with their bags. Paulo kicked at the ground in front of him, his head hanging so the wind wouldn’t catch his face. He eventually caught Alvaro staring at him and gave Alvaro the most _beautiful_ smile that completely warmed up the cold parking lot.

There was what looked like a smudge of pistachio ice cream hanging off the corner of Paulo’s mouth, so Alvaro reached into one of their shopping bags for a tissue to wipe it off. Paulo just continued watching him, the smile hanging on his face like a painting in a museum.

The journey home continued to be completely silent.

Paulo sat in the living room quietly watching YouTube videos with Winnie while Alvaro made dinner, chicken parmesan with some asparagus. He brought it to Paulo together with some freshly-squeezed orange juice and ate his own portion while watching Paulo.

He couldn’t actually tell how he was feeling. He felt – lighter, in some way. But largely still just so numb to the whole thing. He thought maybe he’d give it a few days.

Paulo chose a green elephant for his medicine calendar.

Alvaro waited on the living room couch as Paulo took his shower. Paulo climbed right into bed after it, lying on his side so he could see Alvaro in the living room.

Alvaro couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Neither could Paulo; he watched Alvaro with his large, beautiful, beady green eyes, occasionally interrupted by Winnie when she trotted across their line of vision. He watched Alvaro and Alvaro watched him, like it was a completely normal thing to do without saying anything.

Alvaro thought, again, that this time they had truly run out of things to say to each other.

But at least this time, Alvaro knew it wasn’t because Paulo hated him.

It was because Paulo loved him, just as Alvaro loved Paulo: so much that words couldn’t do it justice.

Paulo fell asleep first; Alvaro followed soon afterwards, the first ounce of emotion creeping back into his frozen heart as he realised that the last thing Paulo had said to him was that he still loved him.

\------

Paulo went for his next therapy session three days later.

He still hadn’t said a single word to Alvaro since that very last ‘yes’ in Marie’s room the previous session. Alvaro still went with him to the hospital, anyway, just like he followed Paulo to the park every morning as if on autopilot. He sat outside in the waiting room and waved at Marie when she called Paulo inside.

Paulo spent the entire hour and a half in Marie's room staring at his feet through the clear top of the table, not saying anything.

He remembered what Isco had said about having someone understand him even if he didn't say anything.

He was glad that he had two of those people.

\------

One of the rare times Paulo woke up in the night, he woke sweating heavily. He swept his hand around the other side of the bed but only ended up smacking Winnie and not finding Alvaro anywhere.

He stared at the ceiling, hoping that he hadn't woken up because of the uneasiness that was inching itself into his chest.

But Paulo, alone, was a prime target of the existential dread that he usually so successfully avoided in the day when Alvaro was awake.

The ghosts of everything that Paulo had done wrong in his life seemed to have gathered around his bed.

Paulo wanted to die.

He got out of bed, hands grasping their opposite wrists so hard the scars were almost ripped back open. He headed to the bathroom but of course, all the razor blades had disappeared. A search of the kitchen revealed all his knives hidden in a cupboard with a child-safe lock that in Paulo's haze, he couldn't figure out how to open.

He couldn't even die properly.

He thought maybe if he tried to do something by himself, he'd feel better. He managed to pour himself a glass of water, but the ability to wash the glass afterwards evaded him.

He tried scrubbing his hands clean of the temptation to tear himself apart, but the hot water and soap did nothing but turn his skin raw and red.

He circled the couch a couple of times, breathing heavily, trying to fight the devilish thoughts in his head with nicer ones. His sword barely pricked their armour.

It was so easy to give in to them. It was so _easy._

He stopped at the entrance to the guestroom. Alvaro was asleep, folded up on himself, back to the door.

Paulo hesitated.

Winnie gave a soft, sleepy whimper by his feet.

With all his remaining courage, Paulo pushed his feet towards the bed.

He crawled in behind Alvaro and knelt there, fists clenched tightly but unable to stop his hands from shaking.

What would Alvaro think if the first words Paulo spoke to him in six days were those telling him that he wanted to die?

But Paulo had promised. He’d _promised_.

He put a hand on Alvaro’s shoulder.

Alvaro woke immediately, whirling around to see who it was that had woken him. Paulo opened his mouth to say something but only succeeded in starting to cry, his hand firmly gripping Alvaro’s sleeve because it was the only physical thing that was keeping him up.

There was no room for confusion, Alvaro seemed to think, for he almost instantly bundled Paulo up in his arms so tightly that Paulo forgot how to breathe. “What happened?” he whispered. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Paulo couldn’t say anything – he couldn’t _do_ anything besides keep shaking, suddenly so...so cold. He hooked his arms under Alvaro’s bicep, pressing it against his face. He closed his eyes and let his sobs escape, one by one, though it felt like they would never run out.

Alvaro gently placed him down on the pillows. He tried to get up but – but Paulo was not going to fucking let him go, so he gripped Alvaro’s hands with all his strength, which turned out to be _a lot_ and cause Alvaro to give a surprised gasp. He glanced at Paulo’s face, then at his reddened hands and wrists – and seemed to finally get it.

He placed his head back down on his pillow and wrapped Paulo up tightly, not just with his arms this time but with his legs, so Paulo was completely surrounded. He kissed Paulo on the forehead, then gently nudged Paulo's face into his chest, his hands stroking calmly up and down Paulo's back.

The attractive scent of death soon faded away, replaced by the warm, familiar scent of home.

Paulo was shaking so hard he threatened to vibrate himself into a million little pieces, but Alvaro seemed determined to hold him together. He hugged Paulo tightly, like he knew it served as a physical reminder to Paulo that he was alive, and that he mattered.

Paulo could see – he could _feel_ more clearly once the quaking in his body stopped. He wanted to look at Alvaro but Alvaro was wound so tightly around him and he smelled so good and Paulo just wanted to live in that little cocoon forever.

He thought Alvaro had fallen back asleep after a while, but the steady movement of Alvaro’s hands on Paulo’s back and his whispering into Paulo’s hair, though Paulo was still too delirious to tell what he was saying, told him otherwise.

Paulo tilted his head to peer at Alvaro’s face; it was glazed over with a mixture of exhaustion and shock and worry, but his lips curled up in a kind smile when Paulo caught his eye.

Paulo wanted to kiss Alvaro so badly that it physically hurt him.

Alvaro cupped Paulo’s cheek in his hand, his palm sliding up and down and then hooking under Paulo’s ear. He moved closer to press his forehead on Paulo’s and for a moment, Paulo thought Alvaro was going to kiss him.

Instead, Alvaro only gently booped his nose against Paulo’s and pulled away, settling down with his head inches from Paulo’s, eyes languidly shifting around Paulo’s face, trying to gauge what was going to happen next.

Paulo grasped two handfuls of the chest of Alvaro’s t-shirt and pulled himself closer so the welcoming scent of Alvaro drowned out the waves of despair that seemed to be permanently roaring through Paulo’s veins. Alvaro wrapped his arm around Paulo’s head, sighing contentedly as he rested his chin on the top of it. Paulo pressed his face into Alvaro’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of his tears as they seeped into Alvaro’s sleeve.

It felt like _years_ since Paulo had gotten to sleep in Alvaro’s arms. He didn’t think anything was ever going to beat the peacefulness that came with it.

It made the thought of the rest of these middle-of-the-night breakdowns that awaited Paulo much less daunting.

\------

The first words Paulo spoke to Alvaro came in the second week of August.

“I’m going to Córdoba with my family.”

Alvaro turned to him, standing behind the couch, hands clasped nervously in front of him, looking like he was asking Alvaro for permission. Alvaro offered him a smile. “‘Course,” he said.

Paulo stood there a while longer like he had something else to say, but eventually left without saying anything.

Alvaro found his passport in his duffel bag and brought it over to Paulo, who was sitting at the kitchen island flipping through his colouring book, trying to decide which page to colour next.

“Can I come with you?” he asked, sliding his passport across to Paulo.

Paulo smiled and. And he looked so fucking _relieved._ “I’ll let Mariano know,” he said, taking the passport and noting Alvaro’s details.

“Thank you,” Alvaro said.

Paulo dipped his head slightly in response. “Um,” he said. “Can I – can I have a pencil sharpener?”

Alvaro found one in the cupboard with the child-safe lock that hid the knives. He gave it to Paulo and watched him sharpen his colour pencils.

Alvaro was tempted to sit across from Paulo and watch him colour because Paulo’s hands were just so _mesmerising_ when they moved.

But he decided that would probably make Paulo feel like Alvaro didn’t trust him, so he used all his physical strength to leave the kitchen and sit on the couch.

He spent the rest of the afternoon secretly watching Paulo’s back as he attentively filled in the pages of his book. It felt like the most interesting thing Alvaro had ever done in his life.

\------

The flight to Córdoba was an hour and a half. Paulo got a window seat and Alvaro was the only one in his row. Everyone else was scattered around them.

Paulo spent the entire flight looking out the window. He hugged his penguin soft toy tightly to his chest.

Alvaro was contented just sitting next to him.

\------

The first thing Paulo did upon getting to Córdoba was visit his father’s grave.

Paulo stepped out of the cab with a sigh into the fresh late morning air. Alvaro climbed out behind him and stood behind him as he took a while to compose himself.

The day was cold but sunny, and white air blew out of their noses with each breath. Paulo treaded heavily through the dirt path, his sneakers gathering dry soil on their toes.

Alvaro had only been there two previous times; Paulo didn't really visit Córdoba that often anymore, but whenever he did, he preferred to visit his dad alone, for hours. Alvaro figured that since Paulo didn't stop him this time, he was all clear to follow.

Paulo stood silently at his dad's grave with his hands in his jacket pockets. He gave a soft sigh which Alvaro only noticed because of the white air at his lips.

He squatted down in front of the polished grey stone, hugging his knees to himself. His shoulders heaved once, shuddering, like he was trying his very best not to cry. His fingers brushed the engraved letters of his father's name.

“I miss you, papi,” he whispered.

Alvaro leaned on a tree a couple feet away, playing with the ends of the drawstrings of his hoodie. Paulo sat down, his legs crossed in front of him. Alvaro wanted to sit next to him but he wasn't sure if Paulo wanted him to; after all, Alvaro had stalked him all the way there.

Paulo turned slightly and briefly met Alvaro's gaze. Alvaro didn't have time to respond before Paulo returned his attention to his front.

“Alvi is here to see you too,” he whispered. “You remember him? Yeah? You like him, right? It's so –” a sob caught in his throat. “It's so important to me that you like him.”

Alvaro took that as a sign, so he gathered all his guts and sat down next to Paulo. He caught Paulo's eye again and this time had time to smile.

Paulo's lips curled up at the sides. He closed his eyes and leaned over, pressing his cheek on Alvaro's shoulder and hooking his arms through Alvaro's.

Alvaro suddenly realised the true reason behind why Paulo was so upset when he'd woken up and found out that Alvaro had saved him.

Sure, it was because he was depressed. It was because he hated himself and wanted to erase his existence. It was because he thought no one loved him.

But above all, it was because Paulo was so close to being reunited with his father, and Alvaro had robbed him of the chance.

Every problem in Paulo’s entire life – his fits, breakdowns, every time he ever thought of himself as a loser, a jerk, a slut, every time he thought he wasn’t good enough, every time he failed to love himself – all boiled down to one single deeply buried reason.

Paulo was living life for his father.

And maybe Paulo wasn't aware of it, but he would die for his father, too.

The realisation did nothing but shatter what was left of Alvaro’s heart. It was too late. Too late to go back and undo it. Too late to unsave Paulo, to save his dad, to save the scar his dad’s death had left on Paulo since he was fifteen. It was too late for any of those things.

But even if he had the chance to go back to that night Paulo was bleeding out on the bathroom floor – he would still have chosen to save Paulo.

Even with everything he knew right then, he would have chosen to save Paulo, a million times over.

It worried Alvaro to death that his selfishness would be the bane of Paulo’s existence. Since the beginning, it had been Alvaro’s selfishness that had always cast a shadow on Paulo’s life as he lived it. Even at the point of Paulo’s death, it was still Alvaro egotism that had denied him from having what he really wanted, no matter how delusional it had been.

 

Maybe in order to truly save Paulo, Alvaro had to leave him alone.

He sat with Paulo until the sky turned inky and the stars came out, determined not to leave Paulo's side because he thought if he did, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to come back again.

\------

They spent the night in Paulo's old room in the Instituto hostel.

The separate beds worked out for them this time. Alvaro and his duffel bag mostly stayed in a three cm radius around his bed; Paulo, on the other hand, flowed into the room like he had been living there all along. He sat by the window with Winnie, then at the little work table that came with every room, before finally climbing into bed and cuddling with Winnie again.

There was silence after Paulo rustled himself under his blanket. The crisp winter air almost crackled with dryness.

Then, softly but surely, “Good night, Alvi.”

Alvaro turned in bed so he was facing Paulo over the few feet of space between their beds that suddenly felt like a gulf. He could see Paulo's eyes, almost shimmering in the darkness like two emeralds.

“Night, Pau,” he whispered.

Alvaro fell asleep with a smile.

\------

When Alvaro woke up the next morning, Paulo wasn't in bed.

Alvaro got up so quickly, the room started spinning for a few moments. He checked under Paulo's blanket, foolishly, just to make sure he hadn't just panicked for nothing. A look out the window at the training pitch below revealed no Paulo to be seen. Alvaro ran to the bathroom at the end of the corridor but it was empty, the hostel's usual occupants all yet to return from their winter break.

He had no choice but to go to the one place he dreaded finding Paulo at, yet knew it was most likely where Paulo was.

Paulo was standing at the edge of the roof, looking over the concrete barrier.

Alvaro's chest was pounding from running up the stairs but he was so _relieved_ he almost started crying. He was afraid Paulo would see him like that, though, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and walked up next to Paulo.

He wasn't crying this time, just staring wistfully into the distance with his hands buried in the front of his hoodie. He dropped his gaze to the ground when Alvaro stopped next to him.

The silence between them for the next ten minutes felt so familiar it was becoming increasingly like the norm.

“Do you still?” Alvaro asked. “Want to die?”

Paulo's shoulders moved in a half-shrug. The pause he made almost killed Alvaro.

“Sometimes,” he whispered.

Alvaro had no choice but to accept it.

He understood why Paulo came up to the roof. It was quiet and windy and he could see everything. The training pitch stretched out below them in an almost-perfect square. Beyond it, a single winded road led to the only way out. Surrounding them was the dark green of trees that had survived the mild Argentinian winter. There wasn't a soul around and Alvaro felt like he was on top of the world with his Paulo.

The steady wind ripped through Paulo's hair, separating it into almost completely individual strands. Paulo was unbothered by it. Alvaro was captivated.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I think I have to go.”

A long silence.

“Why?” he finally asked.

All Alvaro could think of to say was, “I’m not good for you.”

“But you are,” Paulo said, voice trembling. “You are. Is it because I said I don’t want a relationship? Is that why you –”

“No,” Alvaro interrupted before Paulo could start on his spiral. “No. It’s not because of that.”

“Then why?” Paulo asked. “‘Cause I’m sick?”

“You know it could never be about that,” Alvaro whispered, looking down so his tears landed as dark grey spots on the concrete wall. “No matter how sick you are, no matter what you say or you do, no matter what you _think_ , you’ll always be my Paulo. I’ll always love you. Even when you’re sick. It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change who you are to me or how I feel about you. You’re so fucking beautiful to me. I’ll love you until the day I die.”

Paulo swallowed audibly. “So why do you want to leave?”

“All your life,” Alvaro started, his heart breaking more with every word. “All the time I’ve known you, you’ve been – restricted. By me. I don’t think that...that I’ve allowed you to live your life the way you want to. I think that maybe, for you to be okay, I have to...I have to go away. I have to not be in your life.”

Paulo took a single deep, deep breath that he seemed to hold forever.

Then he said, “That's stupid.”

“It's not,” was Alvaro's reply.

“It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.”

If Alvaro was being honest, he loved that Paulo was angry. He loved that Paulo had the energy to stand up for himself again.

But he didn't want to argue with Paulo.

“Why?” he asked.

Paulo didn't answer for a really, really long time. He hung his head so his tears made patterns on the concrete similar to those Alvaro’s had made earlier. Alvaro wondered if he was just so mad he didn’t know what to say, or he was hesitating because he didn’t want to hurt Alvaro.

Alvaro hoped it was the former.

He had almost given up on getting an answer when Paulo turned his head.

Paulo took a step towards Alvaro, completely closing the gap between them. Alvaro instinctively turned to face him.

Paulo’s hands were warm as they resurfaced out of his hoodie and landed on Alvaro’s cheeks, gently cupping them. His breath was welcome against Alvaro’s frozen nose. His eyes – his eyes were tired but bright, and they lit a spark on every inch of Alvaro’s face that they landed on. They were the most beautiful thing Alvaro had ever seen in his life. He remained still, too afraid and surprised to even tremble; but above all, too mesmerised by Paulo's eyes for his muscles to work. A tear escaped the corner of Paulo’s eye as he smiled the softest, saddest smile.

“Because I love you, you fucking idiot.”

And then Paulo. Paulo closed the gap between their faces and pressed his lips gently on Alvaro's.

The first thing Alvaro remembered tasting was the saltiness of their tears. It was followed by a _sweetness_ that made Alvaro gasp both in shock and for breath. His arms had a life of their own as they curled around Paulo's waist, pressing him close to Alvaro and pulling him taller. He couldn’t help but smile when it made Paulo tiptoe to reach him.

It was. It was everything. The kiss was _everything_ Alvaro had wanted, everything he had wished for since Paulo got sick. It Ignited the resting wick in Alvaro’s heart that had been waiting for Paulo’s flame. It made Alvaro feel more alive than he had felt in months, just living the same routine day after day.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered, almost dizzy with relief. And also dizzy with, well. With the taste of Paulo's lips.

Paulo gave this. This little sob-chuckle against Alvaro’s lips. “Yeah?” he murmured.

“Always.”

Paulo gently nuzzled Alvaro's nose with his. “Do you want to be my boyfriend again?”

Alvaro smiled. His heart was. It was so warm that it had melted like a pool of ice cream. “Yes,” he whispered. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said.

Alvaro carded his hand through Paulo's hair; it was short enough now to sit fluffy on the top of Paulo's head. “Why'd you say you didn't?”

“I didn't. I've been thinking about it.”

“Yeah? What'd you come up with?”

“I think that you were right,” Paulo said, his upper body keening forward so he was leaning on Alvaro. “I deserve to be a little selfish.”

“You're not being selfish if it's what I want, too.”

Paulo sighed. He pulled out slightly from the hug and put his hands on Alvaro's waist. “Just – in other ways,” he said.

Alvaro understood, so he wrapped Paulo up again in the tightest hug he could give, lifting Paulo slightly off the ground and pressing his head into Alvaro's neck.

“Do you know how happy I am right now?” he asked.

“Very?” Paulo guessed.

Alvaro laughed. He just. He loved how quickly Paulo was getting better. He loved how they were able to so easily slip back into normal routine, back to teasing and laughing and having fun. Back to navigating their lives together.

“I just can't bear the thought of you leaving,” Paulo whispered, like he was going to start crying again. “Of you...not being in my life.”

“You ever wondered if it'll be better that way?”

“It won't be. I know it won't be.”

“You sure?”

Paulo nodded, pulling away to wipe his tears with his palms. “I know it. I know it and I'm so _sure_ about it and you know – you know? This is the _only_ thing I'm sure of in my entire life. You know that it's not like me to know what I want but this is everything I want. Everything I will ever want. It's you.”

Alvaro cupped his hands around the sides of Paulo's neck. “I love you,” he said.

Paulo smiled and he looked beautiful despite the tear streaks on his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

“You sure about this?”

Paulo nodded again. “I think that...you being here, it's what helped me get better so quickly. The medication, the therapy...it all just seems so fruitless without you, Alvi.”

“You know that I can be by your side without it being a relationship, right?”

“But I don't _want that_ anymore,” Paulo said earnestly, though more tears spilled out of his eyes. He rested his palms on Alvaro's chest. “I don't wanna look at you and just feel so, so sad that I can't kiss you.”

Alvaro smiled. “Pau, I’m sorry that sometimes you feel like you want to die.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I’m just – just sorry about it.”

Paulo gently removed himself from Alvaro’s arms – not angrily, but just so he could put his hands back in his front pocket and look at Alvaro.

“Let’s go back downstairs?” he whispered, his breath a white puff.

Alvaro nodded. He let Paulo lead the way, quietly.

The silence was deafening after what they’d shared earlier. Alvaro watched Paulo’s feet as they moved, equally mesmerized by them as he was by Paulo’s hands.

He realised he just had to get used to these abrupt silences. They didn’t necessarily mean anything; not that Paulo was angry with him, or not that Paulo was upset with anything. Sometimes, Paulo just needed to be alone with himself, in his head.

And maybe that was going to have to be okay.

Alvaro took Paulo’s hand as they descended the last flight of stairs and turned into the corridor leading to Paulo’s room. Paulo didn’t recoil, nor did he reject Alvaro’s hand, and Alvaro. Alvaro just felt so happy. He was so fucking happy just holding his Paulo’s hand, like his hand was a plug that had just gotten plugged into its socket and now Alvaro was lit up like the brightest lamp.

Winnie was waiting for them at the door when they returned to the room. She tried to leap up on the bed when Paulo sat down but couldn’t reach, so Alvaro gave her a boost.

Paulo spent the afternoon in his own bed, reading a book. Alvaro watched him from across the room – not out of worry, but just. Just because Paulo was so beautiful.

Paulo settled at the window after his evening shower, looking out at the empty training pitch below the dome of glittering stars. Alvaro dragged the extra chair next to him and sat down.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

“Hmm?”

Paulo leaned his head on Alvaro’s shoulder. “Do you think we can be the way we were before?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly. “We just need some time.”

“You think?”

“Mmhmm. And we have all the time in the world.”

“What if – what if I can’t give you what I used to?”

“You know what? The most important thing is that we both want it. Yeah? Everything else will work itself out.”

Paulo smiled. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“It’s not what you can give me, Paulo,” Alvaro mumbled. “It’s that we’re soulmates and I’m not going to let you go away so easily.”

Paulo was quiet.

They watched the still night in front of them, silent but so alive in its own way.

“I love you,” Paulo said.

“I love you too, Paulo.”

Paulo left the window and climbed into bed when he was tired. Alvaro put the chairs back and turned off the lights before doing the same. The dim corridor light that shone through the gap between the door and the wall cast a white sliver down the center of their beds.

That blade of light was sliced in half when Paulo got out of bed, Winnie in his arms, and shuffled over to Alvaro’s side. When Alvaro turned, Paulo was looking down at him with the brightest eyes.

Alvaro shimmied towards the wall so Paulo could join him.

Paulo fit right into Alvaro’s arms like he was never meant to leave them. He sunk into Alvaro’s shoulder just as Winnie sunk into his.

Alvaro was suddenly hit with a sense of deja vu, a deep, throbbing feeling that they were the same way they had been eleven years ago, in Paulo’s room at the Instituto hostel, lying down together in a tiny single bed, realising for the first time that they had feelings for each other. It was even the _same bed._

Paulo seemed to realise the same; his head was tilted up towards Alvaro and he smiled when their eyes met.

“Alvi,” he whispered again.

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered back. It was. It was so soothing to hear his name dripping from Paulo’s lips. And Alvaro. Alvaro would always be there to listen to whatever came after his name, whatever Paulo had to say.

“I think you’re very good for me.”

Alvaro smiled. “I’m glad you think so,” he said, because even though Alvaro himself had doubts about that, he knew that Paulo’s opinion mattered more. He knew that Paulo was the one who had to make this decision, and he _had_ made it.

“I’m sorry that you have to be with someone who’s sick.”

“You’re not just someone who’s sick,” Alvaro said softly. “You’re the love of my life.”

“But I’m sick.”

“Being sick doesn’t make you any less than what you’ve always been,” Alvaro whispered. “‘Kay?”

“Alvi,” Paulo said again. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“Really?”

“Maybe,” Alvaro sighed. “Maybe when you said that our relationship was because of a tantrum. The fact that. That it was all reduced to just a tantrum. ‘Cause it’s not. It’s not just a tantrum. Look at us. Look at what happened today. There wasn’t a single tantrum in sight. I love you, Paulo. I love you. It’s not your tantrums that make me want to be with you. It’s _you_. It’s you who makes me want to be with you, who makes me choose you over and over again, every single day.”

Paulo closed his eyes and gave a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Alvaro said, suddenly. Suddenly guilty about his minor outburst. “Maybe – maybe that’s not what you want to say. Maybe you mean to say something else, like, maybe you want to say ‘thank you,’ or something. Not sorry.”

Paulo gave that a very, very long thought.

Then he said, “Thank you for loving me and taking care of me when I’m sick.”

Alvaro felt this. This irrepressible pride and _wonder_ that threatened to tear him into two pieces right down the middle of his chest.

He pressed his lips on Paulo’s, lingering, and the feeling only got stronger.  

Alvaro had the first worry-free sleep in months, knowing that Paulo was in his arms and trusting that he wouldn’t slip away. He knew that this was just the first step, that Paulo was far from being truly okay. He knew that the journey was still longer than he could even fathom.

But now he also knew one other thing.

He knew that he loved Paulo and Paulo loved him, and that was going to make the journey much less difficult.

 


	11. I'm Just A Prisoner In A Reign Of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> I'm sooooooo sorry again for the long long delay. I hope these gaps will get smaller but no promises because I go back to school in a couple of weeks!
> 
> As for this chapter, I know it's one of the ~long awaited~ events, as in it has been built up since part 2, and it's also really long so I really hope that I've done it okay. Nevertheless I hope to hear from you, any comments or suggestions, I'm always open to hearing. You know where to contact me, in the comments or on tumblr (mattiperin). Thank you all so much if you're still reading now despite my slow updates. Though they are far apart I will stick to my promise of finishing this story.
> 
> To pass time, you might want to listen to [the playlist for this fic.](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7LuFOivbseoZ6nLZ8zJHa7?si=G3Xmksr9Q2u90UndsFK1sw)
> 
> Thank you all again and thank you for sticking with me through 2018! I hope you all have a successful and healthy 2019! :)
> 
> Title is from Lovers In Japan/Reign Of Love by Coldplay.

Their impending return to Europe hung over Paulo and Alvaro like a dark cloud.

Well, it did over Paulo, at least. Paulo had gotten less adept at telling how Alvaro was feeling.

They moved back into Paulo's family's house, which wasn't what Paulo usually did when he was back in Córdoba, but was made to by Mariano and Gustavo. He went with it only because it was only two nights before they flew back to Europe.

Paulo lay in bed next to Alvaro on their last night together, wishing it would never end. He couldn't imagine being without Alvaro. He didn't _want_ to imagine it.

Alvaro had fallen asleep early; he'd been consistently tired for longer than Paulo remembered, sleeping every chance he got. He was lying on his back on one side of the bed, one arm sprawled out under Paulo and the other flung above his head, which was tilted a little backwards into the pillow. His mouth hung open and he snored softly.

Paulo watched him sleep, his heart hurting more with every second that passed. He pressed his ear on Alvaro's chest, on his heart, and listened to it go for a while. That sound – that sound represented Paulo's entire world.

He wondered how it would be like back in Turin without Alvaro.

He rolled over on his tummy and took Alvaro’s hand, sliding their fingers together. Then he pulled them apart and placed Alvaro’s palm on his cheek, keening softly into it, trying to remember the feeling of Alvaro’s touch.

Even though Alvaro was sleeping more regularly, he still occasionally woke up grasping thin air – like he did that night while Paulo watched him, except he scratched Paulo on the cheek instead. He made an effort to sit up but only succeeded slightly, his head and shoulders lifting off the pillow and his eyes darting around until they found Paulo. He relaxed and fell back on his pillow.

“What's wrong?” he asked, free hand moving blindly until it found Paulo's, too. “Did I scratch you? Sorry.”

Paulo shook his head because he was pretty sure he'd only been hit by Alvaro's finger pads.

“Why aren't you sleeping?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo shrugged. He swallowed hard.

“What happened?” Alvaro asked again, sitting upright and wrapping his arms around Paulo. “Hmm?”

“Just,” Paulo whispered. “Tomorrow night you'll be gone.”

Alvaro smiled sadly. “I could –”

“No,” Paulo interrupted. He knew what Alvaro was going to say. But he didn't want Alvaro to turn his life upside down for Paulo. He didn't want Alvaro to throw everything else away.

“I wish I could stay,” Alvaro said softly.

“Me, too,” Paulo whispered, but softly enough so Alvaro wouldn’t hear him.

“Anything you wanna do?” Alvaro asked.

“Come with me,” Paulo said.

Alvaro followed him outside and put on his jacket when Paulo passed it to him. He slipped his feet into his sneakers as Paulo opened the front door.

They walked a little down the street until they reached an old apartment building, the only one in the estate. It was run-down and probably flouted a ton of safety rules. But people had been living there since Paulo was a kid and the security guard was a really old man who’d been working there since Paulo started trying to sneak onto the roof.

He recognised Paulo instantly and waved him inside, smiling kindly at Alvaro as he followed. The elevator was perpetually broken down, so Paulo led Alvaro up the stairs.

Alvaro had never been there, Paulo thought. So he wasn’t surprised that Alvaro was hesitant as he climbed the stairs behind Paulo, nor that he was quiet as Paulo pushed open the door at the top and kicked a brick to hold it open. The roof was cluttered with random potted plants and several rusty old chairs, but an entire length of the concrete barrier was clear. The view was impressive for only five storeys high.

Alvaro stood next to Paulo at the edge, completely silent.

Sometimes, Paulo didn’t feel like they were a couple again.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You know that I'll call you whenever I can,” Alvaro said. “Yeah? And I'll always be thinking about you and – and hoping that you're okay.”

Paulo smiled. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Do you know that I love you so much?”

“I do.”

“I'm so afraid that you don't.”

Paulo slipped his hand into Alvaro’s. He pressed his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder. “I do,” he said again.

Alvaro gave a little chuckle and a shudder like he was crying; Paulo didn’t like it, because Alvaro had never cried so much before...well, before everything. He pressed himself more tightly against Alvaro’s side.

“I love you,” he said.

Alvaro seemed to be smiling when his lips landed on Paulo’s head. “Will you call me?” he asked. “If – like last time?”

Paulo nodded.

Alvaro removed his hand from Paulo’s grasp and wrapped his arm tightly around Paulo.

The streetlights in the distance seemed to be twinkling. They seemed to be beckoning Paulo and Alvaro towards them.

It scared Paulo how much he was tempted to just step off the edge and join them. It scared Paulo how easy it seemed to be.

He clung on tightly to Alvaro for the rest of the night, hoping Alvaro would weigh him back. Alvaro was the only thing that could weigh him back.

\------

Alvaro chose to fly with Paulo to Turin instead of going directly back to London by himself.

He chose to hold Paulo’s hand throughout the flight even though all Paulo did was sit with his face pressed up against the window, watching the total emptiness outside.

Mariano slept in the row ahead of them; Paulo occasionally dozed off and hit his head on the glass, but Alvaro sat awake next to him, his thumb running soothing circles on the back of Paulo’s hand as his eyes fixated on the movie playing on his entertainment screen, headphones off and subtitles on.

“Will you be okay alone?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro appeared touched that Paulo cared. He gave a little chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, then after a moment of hesitation, “You?”

“I have Mariano,” Paulo pointed out, before realising that Alvaro meant if Paulo would be okay _without him_. “I’ll always call you.”

Alvaro nodded. He moved his gaze back to his movie, which Paulo realised he was only half-pretending to watch so he wouldn’t cry.

“I love you,” Paulo whispered, leaning over the armrest to rest his head on Alvaro’s shoulder.

“I love you too, Pau,” Alvaro murmured, planting a kiss on Paulo’s head.

“Will you miss me?”

Alvaro laughed and it was the most beautiful sound Paulo had ever heard. “With all my heart.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

Alvaro moved to kiss Paulo, his lips lingering until Paulo kissed him back. The plane was dark and everyone was asleep, and – well, they hadn’t exactly _made out_ since they got back together, their kisses either hesitant or only slightly lingering, but that. That kiss set all the butterflies in Paulo’s stomach free. He leaned desperately over the armrest, arms curling around Alvaro, anxious for more. Alvaro did the same, his lips parting to breathe heavily against Paulo’s mouth. His hands slipped south and to the hem of Paulo’s hoodie, and Paulo.

“I’m not ready for this,” Paulo whispered before his brain could process it.

Alvaro pulled away regretfully. He nodded and kissed Paulo softly on the lips.

“Yeah,” he said.

Paulo watched him as he settled back into his seat, a tiny stone of guilt tugging at his heart.

“I’m sorry,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro shook his head. He pushed the armrest up, kicked his shoes off, and settled on his side, his head in Paulo’s lap over the airline blanket.

“It’s okay,” he said.

Paulo draped his hand over Alvaro’s shoulder; Alvaro held it in his, firmly but gently. He went so quiet that Paulo thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Paulo,” he said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

Paulo slid his other hand into Alvaro’s hair, combing through it until Alvaro closed his eyes peacefully and keened into Paulo’s grasp like a little kitty.

“Nothing will ever change that, Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro fell asleep with a smile on his face and Paulo couldn’t take his eyes off him for the rest of the flight.

\------

Alvaro had a few free hours in Turin before his flight to London, so he went with Mariano and Paulo back to Paulo's apartment and then out for an early dinner.

There was very little talking involved, just the three of them walking, Mariano ahead and Paulo hanging behind with Alvaro. It was summer back there, but Paulo was still in his sweater, sleeves pulled below his wrists.

Paulo didn't have much for dinner. He just poked his food around in his plate so everyone would think that he ate something. Alvaro didn't have the heart to say anything, though he did offer a few bites of his own meal to Paulo.

Paulo was thoughtfully quiet in front of the departure board back at the airport.

“I have to go, Pau,” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo swallowed. He looked like he wanted to ask Alvaro to stay. _Alvaro_ wanted to ask Alvaro to stay. Paulo turned to him, his hands sliding out of his pockets to hold on to Alvaro's.

“I don't know what to say,” he said, head hanging, eyes directed at the ground. “Except that I'm sorry, and thank you, and I love you.”

“That’s enough,” Alvaro whispered, freeing a hand to hold Paulo’s cheek. “It will always be enough.”

Paulo stepped forward and leaned into Alvaro's chest, tucking his face into Alvaro's neck. “Thank you,” he breathed.

“I love you,” Alvaro said. “And I'll always be thinking of you and I'll always call you when I'm free. Okay? Just like the way we did before. Everything will be the same. Okay? I love you so much.”

Paulo nodded, nuzzling Alvaro's neck with his nose. “I love you, too.”

“Take care of yourself, ‘kay? I know you can do it.”

“I love you, Alvi.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered. “Yeah? You hear me?”

Paulo nodded. He stood on his tiptoes and kissed Alvaro softly on the lips. His arms hooked around Alvaro’s neck as Alvaro pulled him closer, further off his feet. His lips moved urgently, saying what his voice couldn’t.

“I have to go,” Alvaro said again, reluctantly.

Paulo pulled away and nodded. He hastily wiped his cheeks but missed all the tear streaks, which Alvaro swiped away with his thumb.

“Bye, Alvi,” he said softly.

“I’ll see you soon,” Alvaro swept Paulo’s hair back on his head. “Okay? Promise.”

Paulo nodded. Alvaro kissed him on the head, lips lingering like a magnet on a fridge.

“Can I call you after therapy?” Paulo asked.

“Of course,” Alvaro whispered. “Anytime. Yeah?”

“I love you, Alvi. I love you. I’m sorry that I stopped saying it. I’m sorry. But I never stopped loving you. I love you so much.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro kissed him on the head. “No. Don’t say that you’re sorry. Okay? I know. I love you so much, too.”

Paulo nodded and crashed into Alvaro for another hug and. And in that moment Alvaro was so, so _fucking tempted_ to just go back home with Paulo and sleep next to him and wake up with him every morning. Alvaro was so tempted to throw the other parts of his life away.

But there were just some things that he couldn’t not do.

Mariano seemed to know. He seemed to understand. He gave Alvaro a smile and an encouraging slap on the shoulder as Alvaro bundled Paulo into Mariano’s arms.

“I’ll see you soon, Pau,” he whispered, kissing Paulo above the ear.

“I love you, Alvi,” Paulo said, reaching for Alvaro’s hand. To hold it just for a last few seconds.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro pressed his lips on Paulo, softly. “Thank you,” he said to Mariano.

Then he had to drag himself through departures before he could change his mind.

He thought the last thing he was going to see when he turned back was Paulo crying.

Instead, he saw Paulo standing upright, face pressed up on the glass, trying to get Alvaro’s attention by waving – and with the most heartbreaking hopeful smile on his face.

That sight, Alvaro thought, was enough to power him through the time they had to spend apart.

\------

Paulo called Alvaro every night.

He called the moment Alvaro landed in London, and spoke to him until they both fell asleep.

He called Alvaro after his first session with his new therapist, another lady named Anita, and he cried even though she was just as nice as Marie. He cried because Alvaro wasn’t there to hug him and hold his hand in the waiting room.

He called Alvaro because he woke up every night shaking and sweating and unable to go back to sleep. After one week had passed, Alvaro didn't even sound like he was woken by Paulo anymore. He just sounded like he'd been awake, waiting.

Even though it was two in the morning in London.

Paulo wished he could stop calling. He wished he could stop fucking up Alvaro's sleep, his thoughts, his career, his fucking _life._

But every time he heard Alvaro's voice on the other end, he was reminded that he couldn't.

Not only because it would break Paulo's heart, but because. Because he knew that it would completely shatter Alvaro.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Alvaro asked. “Will you get up and get yourself a glass of water? Go get Mariano? Yeah?”

“I’m okay,” Paulo whispered, the shudder in his back slowly subsiding.

“Will you go get Mariano?”

“I don’t wanna.”

Alvaro went quiet like he didn’t know what to do. “Okay,” he finally said.

“Alvi.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“That I’m like this.”

Alvaro sighed. He went quiet again, this time not knowing what to say.

“I love you,” was what he finally managed.

“I love you too.”

Alvaro gave the most affectionate laugh and it lit up Paulo’s entire world. “Tell me about therapy, Pau.”

“Will you go with me when you’re here?”

“Like, inside the room?”

“Up to you.”

A short pause, then, “Does she know about me?”

“She knows everything that Marie knows. Marie recommended her.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. “I’ll go with you.”

“Alvi,” Paulo said. “You know that I love you very much, right?”

Alvaro laughed. “Mmhmm. I know that, why?”

“I just want you to know. Again.”

“And you know I love you very much, too, right?”

Paulo knew. Paulo never wanted to forget it, ever.

“I do,” Paulo said, smiling. “Yeah. Alvi. Tell me about training.”

They exchanged training stories – well, Alvaro about training and Paulo about gymming, because the club counselors and trainers had been told about Paulo’s condition by Mariano and had decided to start him off slow. Besides, it only took one weights session for Paulo’s scar to split right open again, so he was banished to leg weights and the treadmill.

It took two hours – two hours that seemed to pass by so quickly – for Alvaro to start drifting off to sleep. Paulo was afraid to speak, in case he broke the peace Alvaro seemed to be so comfortably nestled in.

Paulo hugged his pillow and closed his eyes, Alvaro's steady breathing sending him into a peaceful slumber.

\------

“I'm worried that he doesn't know how much I love him.”

Anita stared at Paulo, blinking slowly.

“Why does that matter to you so much?” she asked.

“I just need him to know.”

“And if he doesn't? How does it make you feel if he doesn't know you love him, but he loves you and cares for you anyway?”

Paulo swallowed. He didn't need to think about it.

“Guilty.”

“Paulo,” Anita said. “You never have to feel guilty for what you feel or don't feel. You can't make anyone love you. Just like you can't make Alvaro love you. If he loves you, it's because he _does._ Not because you manipulated him into it. What you feel is independent of that.”

Paulo dipped his head. “I just feel like...like 'cause I stopped telling him, and now. Now he doesn't know.”

“Have you told him again?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did he say?”

“That he knows.”

Anita smiled. “I don't think your problem is that you haven't told him enough. Your problem is that you don't trust him.”

“I do. I trust him.”

“On this level, you don't. Paulo, you need to learn how to trust him again. Or better, you need to learn how to trust yourself.”

Paulo sighed. He guessed he did need to take some time and care more about what he felt about himself.

At the end of the session, he asked Anita the question he had asked her at the end of each of their previous two biweekly sessions.

“Do you think I'm being selfish?”

And Anita replied with the same answer as she had the previous two times: “No.”

Paulo waited for the day he could believe that.

\------

The nights got quiet. Paulo wished he hadn’t let Winnie go with Alvaro.

The Tokyo Lego set sitting on his dresser made him think of Franco.

“What’s up?” were Franco’s first, very calm words when Paulo called him. Almost too calm, like he was worried about smothering Paulo.

“How are you?” was the only thing Paulo could offer, after realising he had called Franco for practically nothing.

“I’m good,” Franco said slowly. “You?”

“I’m bored.”

“How’s Alvaro?”

“Okay,” Paulo said. “I think.”

“Why don’t you call him? I think he’s a better solution for boredom.”

“I call him all the time,” Paulo said. “I don’t wanna bother him.”

Franco chuckled. “I’m sure he doesn’t mind,” he said. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo mused. “How’s the whole adoption thing?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Franco said. He sounded a little disappointed. “I don’t know how it’s going to go.”

“I’m sure you’ll get news soon.”

“I don’t know. They say it might take a year. Or more.”

“That's good, then. Gives you time to prepare.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t have a preference,” Franco said, which made Paulo laugh because that was the most Franco thing that anyone could ever say.

“What about Isco?” he asked.

“He won't tell me what his preference is. He says that it'll affect mine.”

“Won't it?”

Franco sighed. “Well, of course it will. But I just wanna know. I mean, it's. It's like, his child, too. And we have the option of indicating the gender. So, like, if he really wants a boy, or a girl, then we can hopefully get matched with one.’

Paulo smiled. “You know, I never really knew that you wanted kids? Until Isco came along.”

“Yeah,” Franco chuckled again. “We didn’t really talk about kid stuff.”

“If you’d never met him, and you were where you are right now in your life, would you still have applied?”

“I don’t think I would be where I am now without him.”

“Just what if.”

Franco thought about it. He thought about it for a really long time. And Paulo just waited.

“I would,” Franco finally said. “Just. It would just be really different. You know? If I had never met him in the first place. Just that, itself, disregarding everything else that’s happened over all these years. It would just be so different.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “I know what you mean.”

“You do, yeah? Thinking about...about how it would be now if you’d never met that one person.”

“Yeah.”

“Paulo,” Franco said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you still want to marry Alvaro?”

Paulo smiled. He closed his eyes and. And all he could see was his Alvi. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Would you ask again?”

Paulo sighed. “I don’t think so,” he whispered. “I don’t – what if he says no again?”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Do you think that I deserve it?” Paulo asked. “To marry Alvaro after...after all that I’ve done?”

“Dybala,” Franco said. “I think he doesn’t deserve to marry you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I know. I know I shouldn’t say it. But Paulo. It’s not up to you whether you deserve it. It’s up to other people what they want to give you. Just like it’s up to you what you want to give to Alvaro. Whether he accepts it or not. It’s up to you what you want to give him.”

Paulo opened his eyes. The room seemed a little darker but Paulo realised it was because he’d started crying, his tears blurring his vision.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Franco whispered. “When you think about how life would be like without any one person, it’s him. It’s always him. It will always be. And you say you don’t want to bother him but you do. You _do_ , because it brings you the most joy in your life. You want to bother him for the rest of your life.”

Paulo clapped a hand over his mouth. He suddenly realised how much he fucking _missed_ Alvaro. Even though he spoke to Alvaro every single day. He just missed Alvaro and he missed Alvaro’s voice because it made him feel so happy and so calm.

“I gotta go,” he told Franco.

The moment he hung up, Alvaro called.

And Paulo. Paulo had never felt so _happy_ in his life.

“Hi, Alvi,” he said, trying not to cry all over his phone.

“Hi,” Alvaro said softly. “Hey. You didn’t call and I was worried.”

“I was, I just – I thought I wouldn’t bother you today.”

“You never bother me.”

“I love you, Alvi.”

“I love you too. Are you crying?”

Paulo gave a little giggle-sob. “Just 'cause I missed you.”

“How are you?” Alvaro asked. “Have you taken your medication?”

“Mmhmm.”

“How's that calendar looking?”

“I picked a little cat.”

Alvaro laughed. “Cool.”

A text from Franco came in, saying, _Sorry I upset you._

Paulo couldn’t help but smile, which led to a small laugh that Alvaro caught. “What is it?” he asked.

“I was talking to Franco,” Paulo said. “He thought he upset me.”

“Did he?” Alvaro asked, and he sounded a little offended and defensive, like he was about to hang up the phone and call Franco to scold him.

“No,” Paulo laughed again. “He just. Just made me miss you a little, so I hung up on him to call you.”

Alvaro burst into giggles. “Did he say anything about me?”

“No,” Paulo said. It was. It was only a half-lie.

“Tell him you’re not upset with him.”

So Paulo did. He texted back, _I’m not upset, I just had to call Alvaro._

 _Ok,_ Franco replied, accompanied by a puking emoji.

“He gave me a puke,” Paulo told Alvaro.

“A puke?”

“You know, that emoji.”

“That’s not a puke. It’s a puking dude.”

“It’s shorter to say puke.”

“A puking dude,” Alvaro mused. “A pude.”

Paulo doubled over in laughter that almost sent him over the edge of the bed. “That sounds so fucking horrible, Alvaro.”

Alvaro laughed loudly. “A pude,” he said again. “Let me google that.”

Paulo listened as Alvaro read to him all the search results he’d gotten for his research on the word ‘pude.’ It sounded just like music to Paulo’s ears. He didn’t really listen to what Alvaro was _saying_ , but. But it just sounded so good.

“How’s Winnie?” Paulo asked when there was a lull in conversation.

“She’s good,” Alvaro said. “She’s taken a liking to your old shoes.”

“That’s gross,” Paulo said. “Insert pude here.”

Alvaro burst into laughter again and Paulo’s heart felt so _warm_ it almost felt like it was melting. He closed his eyes and just let the feeling flood him.

“I’ll bring her to see you when everything’s more settled, ‘kay?” Alvaro asked softly. “When I get my schedule and everything.”

“Okay,” Paulo whispered. “Alvi. You know that I love you very much, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Alvaro said, and Paulo could hear him smiling. “I love you, too.”

“Do you ever get annoyed that I say it so much?”

“No,” Alvaro said softly. There was a rustling sound like he was settling into bed. “I love that you say it so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I love that you say it, too.”

“Go to sleep, Pau,” Alvaro whispered. “I love you.”

Paulo fell asleep holding those words close to his heart.

\------

As if Paulo's call had been some kind of prophecy, Franco received a call from the orphanage just three days later.

“Franco, I have good news for you,” Carlos, the counsellor, said. “We've matched you with a child.”

“You – you have?” was all Franco could think of to say. “Who is it?”

He retrospectively realised it was quite a dumb question when Carlos laughed. “Why don't you come down tomorrow and I'll introduce h –”

“No!” Franco said so quickly he scared himself. “I mean, I don't want to know the gender yet.”

“Understood,” Carlos said, evidently still amused. “If you could drop by tomorrow? We can settle some paperwork and you can take your new child home.”

“Home? Tomorrow?” Franco asked. “I don’t – I don’t think the house is ready.”

“It says here that you already have a cot.”

“Yeah, but that’s – that’s old, and I want everything to be new and nice, and we haven’t bought anything ‘cause we expected it to take much longer than this.”

“You can take the child home whenever you wish,” Carlos said. “As long as you sign the papers before.”

“Okay, I’m –” Franco stammered. His hands couldn’t stop _shaking._ “We’ll – I’ll come by tomorrow.”

Franco hung up the phone and called Isco.

“Do you think that maybe you could make it to Seville tomorrow morning?”

“Hi, baby,” Isco said, totally chill, like he couldn’t tell Franco was freaking the fuck out. “Tomorrow morning? What’s the rush?”

“We got a kid,” Franco said breathlessly.

“You got a kid?” Isco squealed. “That’s great! Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t wanna know yet,” Franco said. “Will you come with me to meet them?”

“Are you going to take them home tomorrow?”

“No, but maybe we could do some shopping together and do the place up and they can come home soon. And maybe we can – I just wanna see them. I wanna see my kid.”

“Okay,” Isco chuckled. “Yeah. I’ll call Junior’s nanny.”

“Bring him along,” Franco suggested.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m sure he’ll love to meet his new little brother or sister.”

“Okay,” Isco said, and Franco could hear the smile in his voice. “I'll see you.”

“I love you. I'm so excited.”

“I know,” Isco laughed. “I love you, too.”

Franco hung up the phone and didn't hear from Isco again for the whole day.

Until Isco appeared at Franco's door at midnight with a sleeping Junior draped over his shoulder, almost toppling Isco over because Junior was so _big_ now. He struggled with the keys with one hand until Franco, wondering if it was some kind of house burglary, looked through the peephole and opened the door for him.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Sorry. Could you – can you take him? He's so heavy.”

Franco laughed and got loudly shushed by Isco. He picked Junior off Isco's shoulder and carried him towards the guestroom, which had been re-made once Junior was big enough to sleep in a proper child’s bed. He only took up about half the room with his toys and a little dresser for his clothes.

“Made such a big fuss about staying up past midnight, too,” Isco scoffed softly from behind Franco, rolling his shoulder to loosen it from carrying Junior.

“How'd you get here so fast?” Franco asked as Isco dragged him outside by the elbow.

“We caught the last train,” Isco said. “So we can go early tomorrow.”

“Don't you have like, training and stuff?”

“I excused myself.”

“Can you do that?”

Isco shrugged. “I mean, you know, if my wife was gonna give birth and I was gonna get a kid, they'd let me go, right? Why should this be any different?”

Franco smiled. He grabbed Isco by the cheeks and squished them together. “I love you, you know that?”

Isco laughed and he looked like a fish and he had a lot of trouble just saying, “I love you too.”

Franco planted a kiss on his stupid fishy lips. “C'mon,” he said. “Go take a shower.”

“Come with me.”

“I'm clean.”

“No you're not. You're a dirty, dirty boy.”

“Don't you fucking dare, Alarcon.”

Isco burst into loud laughter. “Do you wanna?” he asked. “Bang?”

And Franco was. Franco was so fucking _fond_ because firstly, it’d been five years and Isco still asked verbally _every time_ , and secondly, because he called it ‘banging,’ a completely crude word especially given how _close_ Franco was to going down to the city hall and marrying Isco if Isco so much as mentioned it.

“Do you?” Franco asked, trying to subdue his heart-eyes but very evidently failing because Isco shot him the most loving glance in return.

“I’m a little tired,” he said. “But I know – um, when you’re stressed. Excited. Yeah. I’m up for it.”

Franco ended up just getting a lazy handjob in the shower with Isco but he was contented. He was so contented just to crawl into bed with his annoying little bean.

“Hey,” Isco said just as Franco had finally closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. He opened his eyes again to see Isco’s face pressed so close to his that their noses were almost touching. “I’m so excited for you.”

“For me?” Franco smiled. “For us.”

Isco smiled back and he went a little cross-eyed from how he was trying to focus his gaze on Franco. “You're going to be such a great dad.”

“You think so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Will you finally tell me whether you want a boy or a girl?”

Isco closed his eyes, his lips curling up again in a cheeky smile. “I'll tell you tomorrow.”

“Tell me now.”

“No. I'll tell you tomorrow.”

“What's the difference?”

“It'll be tomorrow.”

Franco slapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t like you.”

“I don’t care. You love me.”

Franco couldn’t deny that, so he closed his eyes and sighed. “Alarcon,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Tomorrow, this will all be different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” Franco whispered. “I hope.”

Isco smiled. “It will be.”

“I can’t sleep. I’m too excited.”

Isco snuggled up close so his head was cradled between Franco’s collarbones. “Just think about how you’re not allowed to meet your little child looking like a wild sleepless monster. Then close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me tomorrow?”

“Promise.”

“And you can’t change it according to whether we get a boy or a girl.”

“I’ll write it on a piece of paper and you can keep it in your pocket and open it after we meet them.”

“Can’t you just tell me before we go?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause if I tell you and you go there and the child is the other gender, your first emotion upon seeing them would be disappointment. That’s not fair. You’ve been waiting for this your entire life. _The child_ has been waiting for this their entire life. It’s not fair that your first reaction is disappointment just ‘cause I said something to sway your neutrality.”

Franco had never been so in love in his entire life.

“You know that I love you very much, right?” he whispered.

Isco smiled. “I love you, too.”

“Do you?” Franco asked. “Know?”

Isco nodded. “Do you?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Okay.”

“I'm just scared that you don't. That I don't know how to tell you.”

“Me, too,” Isco whispered. “But I know. Okay? You just have to remember that. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now go to sleep,” Isco said, placing his palm over Franco's eyes and closing them. “You have to be great tomorrow. For your kid. And you have to be awake enough to remember the whole day, from the first moment you see their face.”

And when Isco. When Isco used words in the beautiful way he did, Franco felt like he had no choice but to do everything Isco told him to do.

\------

Franco was already awake when Isco awoke the next morning.

He was just lying there, across from Isco, his lips curled up slightly. They extended into a big smile when Isco woke up.

“Morning,” he whispered.

“Morning,” Isco whispered back. He shimmied forward and pressed his lips on Franco's nose. “I love you.”

Franco giggled and he shrivelled up like a raisin and his face turned bright red. “Hello,” he said softly.

Franco looked. He looked so beautiful in the mornings that Isco couldn't do anything but lie there and stare at him. His hair was flopped over his head but fluffy enough to sort of float in the air a few inches off his pillow. His hands were softly clutching the front of Isco's t-shirt. His lips were still curled up in the gentlest smile and Isco had to resist with all his strength from leaning over and kissing him.

Their little fifteen-minute long bubble of peace was finally broken when Junior awoke and barged into their room, hopping onto the bed and clambering over Isco like he wasn't even there.

“Papi!” he screamed. “Hello!”

“Hi, you,” Franco laughed. “How are you?”

“Papi are we getting a new baby?”

Franco chuckled. “I don't know if they're a baby,” he said.

“But we're getting a new one? I'm gonna have a little brother or sister?”

“Mmhmm,” Franco murmured, trying to flatten Junior's bedhead. “Hey. Did your papa tell you if we're hoping for a boy or a girl?”

Junior blinked at him; rightly so, too, because Isco hadn't told him a word in anticipation that something like this would happen. “No,” he said slowly. “Papi what are you hoping for?”

“Either one,” Franco said, turning to lie on his back. Junior automatically climbed on his chest and sat there like he wasn't already almost seven years old and like, five times as heavy as he had been when he was a baby. “What about you?”

“Me?” Junior asked. “I want one of each.”

Franco burst into laughter and Junior bobbed along with him on his chest. “I don't think that's how it's gonna work.”

“Why not?”

Isco left them to their exciting discussion and went to brush his teeth before making breakfast and preparing their clothes for the trip to the orphanage. He picked out a denim shirt for Franco and folded the sleeves up to the elbow for him, before realising that Junior had a similar short-sleeved one. He ironed it along with a polo t-shirt that Franco had gotten Junior, with a tiny little sewn-on football on the chest.

About twenty minutes later Franco and Junior finally emerged from the bedroom, freshly-bathed and half-naked. Junior had his underwear on and Franco was drying Junior's hair with a towel. He nudged Junior towards Isco. “Go put on your clothes.”

Isco handed Franco the denim shirt with the folded sleeves and Franco took it, momentarily distracted by it so he didn't notice his towel slipping down his hips. Isco helped him hold it up.

Franco leaned over and smooched Isco loudly on the lips, then his cheeks and his nose. “Thanks, love,” he said, holding on to his towel with his shirt hand and using the other to dry his hair with Junior's towel. Isco watched him disappear back into the room.

“Papa your face very red,” Junior pointed out from where he was, sitting on the couch in his underwear and swinging his feet.

“Oh, be quiet,” Isco grumbled. He held the shirts up for Junior. “Which one do you want to wear?”

Junior picked the denim shirt because he “wanted to look like papi.” Isco thought that for all the excitement Junior displayed, he was secretly a little bit worried that the throne of Franco's love that he sat on would suddenly be taken away and given to his new sibling. It was natural, but it amused Isco a little.

Isco quickly got showered and changed, but when he came out the breakfast he'd made still hadn't been eaten. Instead, it had been put into little baggies and Franco was holding them along with Junior's hand and bouncing impatiently on his heels near the front door.

“Let's go,” he urged.

Isco fed Junior his breakfast in the backseat as Franco drove, refusing to eat because he was too excited. The journey to the orphanage took less than thirty minutes.

“Are you ready to go inside?” Isco asked when Franco had parked the car and sat there at the wheel for like, ten minutes without moving.

“Yeah,” Franco said. He sounded nervous. But he got out of the car and smoothened his shirt. “C'mon. Let's go.”

“Do you want to eat something first?” Isco asked, letting Junior bound ahead of them to the entrance. “Are you hungry?”

“I'm a little bit scared,” Franco said, shoving his hands into his front pockets.

“Don't be,” Isco whispered. He grabbed one of Franco's hands and held it tightly, pressing himself against Franco's side because his touch seemed to calm Franco. “Hey. You've waited all your life for this day. You've gotten this far. This is the very last step. Okay? I love you and you'll be great and I'll be here all the way. Okay?”

Franco smiled. He pressed his lips softly on Isco's. “I love you so much. I know that this is going to change us but I know that we're going to have so much fun.”

“We are,” Isco smiled, tiptoeing to kiss Franco again. “Yeah. The most fun.”

Junior gave one of those deafeningly loud bird whistles – _God,_ Alvaro must've taught him that – and yelled, “Let's go get baby!”

“I hope he doesn't teach his new sibling all of that,” Franco said, gesturing towards the general direction of Junior.

Isco laughed. “Me too,” he said.

“Let's go,” Franco said again, and this time he sounded more confident.

“Wait,” Isco said. “Hey. Keep this in your pocket.”

He handed Franco a folded piece of paper, on which he'd scribbled the word “girl” earlier that morning. Franco took it and gazed at it for a moment like he thought he could read the word through the paper but Isco had foreseen that and had folded it too many times for Franco to see anything. Then he put it in his pocket obediently.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Isco followed him inside, where Junior was already waiting at the front doors to the office. They asked for Carlos and sat in the waiting room.

Carlos only appeared after five whole minutes of Franco's nervous leg bouncing. He said hi to Junior, after which Junior bounded away again towards the playground.

“C'mon,” he gestured at Isco and Franco. “I'll take you to your child.”

“Do you think that it’ll be weird?” Franco asked lowly as they followed Carlos. “That I’m wearing the same clothes as Junior?”

“Why would that be weird?” Isco asked.

“I don’t know, like I already have a favourite.”

“You’re thinking too much.”

“I should have thought of it before we left the house.”

“Franco. Stop.”

Franco gave this little frustrated whine before stopping in the middle of the basketball court, where Carlos asked them to wait. “But I’m –”

“Just stop talking,” Isco said, turning Franco around to face him and holding on to both of Franco’s hands. “Just close your eyes for a while and relax.”

Franco’s eyes fluttered shut as he swayed forward a bit, towards Isco. He gave a soft sigh. His grasp melted into the gentle circles Isco was running on the back of his hands with his thumbs.

“I love you,” Isco whispered. It made Franco smile.

Carlos reappeared through the door he'd entered – it led to the indoor playrooms, if Isco hadn't remembered wrong – backwards, grinning widely in Isco's direction. He stepped out of the doorway and Isco couldn't help but smile when he saw who Carlos had in his arms.

It was a little girl.

And she was wearing a denim dress.

Isco burst into laughter, startling Franco, who opened his eyes. He caught on immediately and started to turn behind him but Isco stopped him.

“Wait,” Isco said. “Are you ready? Yeah?”

Franco nodded eagerly. “They're behind me, right? They're coming?”

Isco laughed again. He kissed Franco softly on the lips. “I love you, Franco Vazquez.”

“I love you too, Isco Alarcon,” Franco whispered. “Can I turn now?”

Isco nodded. “You are gonna be _so happy._ ”

Carlos and the little girl were already almost behind Franco when he turned; the biggest, _brightest_ smile split Franco’s face into two, his eyes crinkling until they had almost disappeared. He let out a soft squeal as Carlos stopped in front of him.

“Hi,” he said, softly.

“This is Olivia,” Carlos said, giving her a jiggle as she sat obediently on his arm. “Olivia, say hello to your new daddies.”

Olivia blinked at Franco; she had the most _beautiful_ big dark brown eyes. She was clutching a teddy bear half her size. Her brown hair was curly and messy and sat on her head like a cloud. Franco beamed at her but she didn’t seem to know how to respond.

Franco knew Olivia; Isco knew her, too, from the few times Franco had mentioned her, even though Franco had never really gotten any one-on-one time with her like he had with the other kids. She was one of the youngest kids there and she had arrived at the orphanage just after Franco had started volunteering there, as a newborn baby. Which made her around a year old on that day. Looking at her both shattered Isco’s heart into pieces and warmed it so, because he knew that now – now Franco was going to give her the warmest home.

Carlos put Olivia down on the ground and Franco followed, squatting and hugging his knees to himself. “Hello,” he said again.

Olivia blinked at him again. She seemed to not be able to stand properly yet so she was just leaning back on Carlos, her arm draped over his knee as he squatted behind her. She hugged her teddy closer.

Franco turned to Isco and there was suddenly this _petrified_ look on his face. Like he was telling Isco, _she doesn’t like me._ Which was utter nonsense. She was just a little kid. She was probably scared.

“She’s very shy,” Carlos said. “You remember her, right? She’s been here just as long as you have, so she's known you since her very first day. She’s always been quiet. I think that’s why your counsellor approved this match.”

Franco laughed and Isco was relieved that he still could. “How old is she exactly?” he asked.

“She just turned one, about six weeks ago. You would’ve been in charge of the party but you were away, I think.”

“Yeah, we were back in Argentina.”

“Olivia, how’d you like to hang out with your new daddies for a bit?” Carlos asked her, trying to press her hair down but only having it bounce right back up at him. “Yeah?”

Olivia turned to Carlos and blinked at him instead. She restlessly crossed one ankle over the other and it was probably just a passive movement but Isco thought that it was incredibly adorable.

Then Olivia turned back to Franco, uncurled her arm from around Carlos’ knee, and reached out to wrap her fingers around two of Franco’s fingers.

Franco burst into this. This melody of giggles. He ran his thumb over Olivia’s hand. “Hi, Olivia,” he said.

Carlos gave her a gentle nudge forward so she was leaning on Franco’s legs. She blinked at Franco a few more times before her rosy lips curled up in a small smile.

“There you go,” Carlos said proudly. “She takes a while. Especially since she's never been presented alone to you before.”

“How are you?” Franco asked, completely ignoring all the other conversations around him. “You’re good? Yeah? You're very beautiful.”

Olivia’s smile faded into a confused expression. She tilted her head to the side and let her teddy bear fall to the ground.

Franco laughed. He picked up the bear and dusted it off, then hooked his arm around Olivia and hoisted her in the air. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go play.”

“I think it's safe to say we've lost him for today,” Isco said to Carlos, who laughed.

“I'm pretty sure about that,” he said.  

“Are there some papers we have to look at, or something?” Isco asked.

“I'll give you a copy of Olivia's file and some papers that you can take home to read and sign. Once everything is through, you can take her home.”

“Should I get Franco?”

“Sure, if you can,” Carlos chuckled. “We can try.”

They found Franco at the playground looking for Junior, who appeared from under the slide and walked timidly up to where Olivia was, at Franco's knees again. Introductions were made and Junior put his hand out like a little gentleman but Olivia was confused again until Franco took her hand and guided it.

“This is your older brother,” Franco whispered to her. “Yeah? He's gonna take care of you, too.”

Olivia turned and examined Franco, but his face was so close to hers that she had to crane her neck backwards a bit so her three baby chins showed. Franco laughed and gave them a jiggle with his finger. Olivia stomped her baby Converse sneakers-clad feet on the ground.

It was the most adorable thing Isco had ever seen.

“Franco,” he called. “We have to go get the papers.”

“'Kay,” Franco said. He picked Olivia up again and followed in the general direction of Carlos, though he couldn't stop staring at Olivia instead of looking out for things he might bump into. Isco walked behind him, gently steering him away from walls and rubbish bins.

“Papa it's a girl!” Junior said excitedly, but softly, like for some reason he thought it was something no one should hear. “I have a baby sister!”

“Mmhmm,” Isco ruffled his sweaty hair. “Do you like her?”

“I don't know her yet. But papi seems to like her.”

“He really does,” Isco laughed. “Hey. You sure you're okay with all this, yeah?”

Junior nodded. “I'm very okay.”

“You know that it's normal if you feel a little bit jealous that all the attention is on Olivia, right?”

Junior beamed. “Papa, you know papi, he has so much love? And it's always all for me. I think that there's so much that I can share it with someone.”

Isco was suddenly. He was suddenly so _proud_ of his baby boy and his Franco and his heart felt like it was going to explode. He grabbed Junior and half lifted him off the ground because he was too big to be carried in one arm.

“Do you know that I’m very proud that you’re my son?” he asked.

“I know,” Junior giggled.

“Pfft,” Isco laughed. He bent over to tickle Junior’s sides. “You’re one smug little boy, huh?”

“No, just clever,” Junior said, trying but failing to escape Isco’s grasp. “Papa. Papa! I think we should take care of papi before he walks into a wall.”

Franco made it safe and sound into Carlos’ office, fortunately. He sat down in one of armchairs with Olivia on his lap. Isco sat on the long couch with Junior.

“Are you planning to take her out today?”

“Can we?” Franco asked eagerly, his face lighting up.

“I just need you to sign this form,” Carlos said, sliding a piece of paper and a pen across the coffee table. “Saying she's under your care today. And please bring her back by 8. To keep her overnight I need you to sign the official papers or a different overnight form.”

All of that seemed to go in Franco’s left ear and out his right. He just took the form and tried his best to fill it in while Olivia clung to his collar. She seemed to have taken an immediate liking to Franco, which was the biggest relief in the world.

“Here’s her file and the papers you need to sign,” Carlos said, sliding two files across towards Isco. “You can keep her file and copies of the forms. Just give me the originals and we’re set.”

“Thank you,” Franco said distractedly, sliding the filled form back to Carlos. He stood up with Olivia and adjusted her dress over her diapers. “Come on. Let’s go shopping. Papi will take you shopping.”

He had reached the door when he stopped, and turned around slowly. “Can she call me papi? What is she supposed to call us?” he asked.

“Anything you wish,” Carlos smiled. “With normal foster children, it’s done with the aim of reuniting them with their biological parents. With Olivia that won’t be possible. You’re fostering her on the path to adoption. And I think it’s safe to say that this isn’t something you’re going to regret. So it’s no problem that she calls you her dads.”

Franco beamed. He turned back to Olivia. “Say ‘papi,” he instructed.

Olivia stared at him for a while, eyebrows furrowed. Her fingers fiddled with Franco’s earlobe. Then she gave a little ‘buh’ sound, like she was telling Franco ‘this is all I have.’ It was the first word that she’d uttered the entire time they’d been there.

Franco was _overjoyed_. He just walked straight out the door, leaving Isco and Junior behind.

“Thank you so much,” Isco said. “For all your help. We’ll get these forms back ASAP. And we’ll get her back by 8.”

“Sure,” Carlos smiled. “No problem at all.”

“Sorry about –” Isco gestured at the door. “You know.”

Carlos laughed. “It’s good this way,” he said. “At least he’s serious about this.”

“Mmhmm,” Isco said. He could bet his _life_ on how serious Franco was about this.

“Do you need a pram and a car seat?” Carlos asked. “We can loan them to you for today.”

“Maybe could we borrow a pram?” Isco said. “We temporarily fixed Junior’s old car seat into the car just for today.”

“Sure,” Carlos said. “I’ll call the front desk and tell them you’re coming.”

“Thank you again.”

“It’s no problem. It’s my pleasure.”

“Um, I better go. In case Franco, like, walks into a pothole, or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carlos said. “Go after him. See you again soon!”

“Bye bye!” Junior called, already halfway through the door.

Isco went outside and found Franco wandering around the playground, jiggling and rocking Olivia around. She was smiling brightly and showing her little front teeth. She seemed so thoroughly _enchanted_ by Franco. Franco squatted down when Junior arrived, trying to make Olivia say hi to him again.

“They can lend us a pram so we can go shopping,” Isco said, stopping next to their little gathering. “Let’s go collect it at their front desk.”

Franco peered up at him with the most joyful gaze Isco had ever seen. “Okay,” he said, smiling. He stood up and planted a kiss on Isco’s cheek, then his lips. “Thank you.”

The front desk made them sign out a small, simple pram for Olivia, and handed them a couple bottles of milk powder and pureed baby food together with some diapers. There was a row of grape juice boxes on the counter, the kind that Franco and Junior loved to slurp so loudly from; it was at that point when it finally seemed to hit Olivia where she had seen Franco before, because she gestured wildly towards the juice cartons until Franco picked one up for her. Then, when Franco opened it with the straw and held it for her to drink, she grabbed it with both her hands and pressed the box to Franco’s mouth, like she was telling Franco, _I remember you like it, so you drink it._

Isco didn’t think his heart could take any more of this.

Franco, too, was just. He just looked so smitten. He drank half the juice and gave the rest to Junior.

Isco decided that Franco was probably in no state to drive, so he got into the driver’s seat and made Franco get in the back with Junior and Olivia. Franco buckled Olivia safely into the booster seat but had to have Junior help him put his seatbelt on.

“Everyone ready?” Isco asked, checking the rearview mirror.

“Alarcon,” Franco called, completely ignoring Isco’s question. He adjusted Olivia’s dress again, then turned to meet Isco’s eyes in the mirror. “She’s wearing denim,” he said softly, like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

Isco burst into laughter. “She is, yeah,” he said. “Now I feel left out.”

“We’ll get you something at the mall,” Franco said. He leaned forward, between the front seats, and kissed Isco on the cheek. “I love you.”

“Me, too,” Isco said, squishing Franco’s nose between his fingers and laughing when Franco scrunched his face up. “Let’s go. You ready?”

Franco nodded. He leaned back in his seat and Junior clung on to him immediately, chattering away about something random. Franco paid him attention, but Olivia was distracted by the view outside the window, straining out of her seatbelts to press her nose on the glass. Isco thought it was probably because she had barely gone beyond the walls of the orphanage in all the thirteen months of her life.

“Let's go get you some things, yeah?” Franco said as Isco parked the car. He unbuckled Olivia from her seat and tried to smoothen her hair but failed. “The first thing we're getting you is a hairbrush.”

And that was the first thing Franco bought for Olivia.

A little pink hairbrush that had a little compartment for liquid glitter at the back of it – although Franco spent fifteen whole minutes debating with himself whether he should force the colour pink on Olivia before relenting when she took it from him and refused to let go of it.  

“She's had enough of you already,” Isco pointed out.

“Shut up,” Franco said.

Their next stop was the baby store, where Franco picked out a convertible crib in a soft peachy colour that suited Olivia. He got a mattress and some sheets, then picked out a bookshelf and a dresser. Then his arms got tired so Isco opened the pram for him.

“You haven't held her,” Franco said in realisation as he was about to lower Olivia into the pram. “Hold her.”

Isco couldn't refuse, firstly because Franco was practically shoving Olivia into Isco's arms, and secondly because Olivia was the most adorable little girl in the universe and Isco wanted to squeeze her to death.

“You know,” Isco said as Olivia sat on his arm, confused again. “She's just like you. She's always confused.”

“She just doesn't know you,” Franco said. “Olivia. This is your papa. Say ‘papa.’”

Olivia went ‘buh’ again and Isco laughed. He pinched her tiny button nose in his fingers and gave it a wiggle.

Then Olivia leaned closer and hesitantly planted her wet lips on Isco's cheek.

Everyone was quiet for a while in surprise, before Franco finally exclaimed, “Aww, it's 'cause she saw me doing it to you just now!”

“Aww papi she wants to be like you!” Junior laughed.

“She's a fast learner,” Isco smiled. “Hmm? You're a smart little girl.”

Olivia stared at him. Her fingers fiddled with his collar. “Buh,” she said again.

“I got two 'buh's!” Isco exclaimed. “I win.”

Franco tutted. He gestured at the pram. “C'mon, let's go,” he said. “We have lots of things to buy.”

“Give papi a kiss first,” Isco said. He puckered his lips at Olivia, then held her closer to Franco.

Olivia craned her neck backwards again to examine Franco, then aimed her lips right on his nose.

“Ooh, she's drooly,” Franco said. “Ooh! We need towels.”

Then he promptly disappeared into the next aisle and Isco put Olivia into her pram and followed him. She fell asleep the moment she was lying down, softly clutching her new hairbrush.

“She didn't even make a fuss when she was sleepy,” Isco noted to Junior. “Unlike you.”

“Hey!” Junior argued. “I'm bad baby?”

“No, not bad baby,” Isco laughed. “You were the perfect baby.”

“Hmph,” Junior scoffed. He skipped ahead of Isco and Olivia. “Of course I'm perfect baby!”

Isco strolled slowly behind Franco and Junior as they picked out Olivia’s things, taking over the stroller now instead of the shopping trolley, which was very rapidly filled to the brim in front of his eyes. Franco found towels and pillows, little shoes, boots, and like, a thousand sets of clothes even though Olivia would probably grow out of them in the blink of an eye. He got soft rubber edges for all the furniture in his house. He bought a floor mat with the solar system, similar to the one he'd gotten for Junior. He got a brand new pram that would fit for at least the next year and a half. He got a little inflatable playpen for Olivia to play in. He might as well have gotten an entire new apartment for her.

They sent some of the things for delivery and loaded the rest into the car. Lunch was late because no one seemed to be hungry. Olivia had awoken by the time their food arrived, which meant that Franco was distracted all over again and didn't get to eat. As if he wasn't already a slow enough eater.

“I'll take her,” Isco said. “Why don't you eat something? You haven't eaten since last night.”

“Finish your food first,” Franco said. “I'll change her diaper.”

He disappeared inside towards the restrooms and reappeared when Isco had finished his food. Olivia smelled fresh and she was smiling, though she was still quiet. Save for the three ‘buh’s, she hadn’t said anything else.

Isco popped open a jar of baby food and started feeding her on his lap while Franco watched, occasionally wiping her mouth with his napkin. She was so hungry that she began holding on to Isco’s fingers with her tiny grabby hands so she could reach the food more quickly.

“Can she eat fries?” Junior asked from across the table.

“Maybe a soggy one,” Franco suggested.

Junior handed him a soggy fry and Franco held it near Olivia’s mouth. She stared at it for a while before wrapping her entire hand around the fry and nibbling at it.

“Do you like it?” Franco asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah?”

Olivia didn’t respond, but continued nibbling at it for a while before biting and tugging the fry so it broke apart and she got her fingers full of potato pulp and oil. Then she proceeded to put all of it into her mouth.

“I think it’s a yes,” Isco laughed, watching as Franco tried to clean her hands with wet wipes.

“She wants another one?” Junior asked, passing a handful of fries across the table. Olivia made grabby hands at them, so Franco and Isco had no choice but to give them to her, one by one.

“I love her,” Isco said softly.

Franco chuckled. “Me, too,” he whispered, gently running his finger across Olivia's cheek. “Look at her eyes. I think they sparkle.”

They did. They were a light brown under the late afternoon light. Franco took the new hairbrush and tried to tame Olivia's hair with it, but failed, so they had to run by the pharmacy to get her a set of toiletries.

“What else do we need?” Franco asked.

Junior took the straw he was chewing on out of his mouth and said, “Toys.”

“Toys!” Franco exclaimed. “I forgot about toys.”

Isco, on the other hand, was thoroughly amused that the only thing Junior remembered to contribute was toys. He grabbed Junior around the waist and lifted him off the ground as Franco hurried ahead with Olivia.

“You can only think about toys, huh?” he asked as Junior giggled. “Yeah? You want a reward for that?”

“Yes!”

“I’ll get you something,” Isco said, putting Junior down and holding his hand instead. Junior had been such an angel throughout the day. He deserved whatever he wanted. “What do you want? I’ll get you anything.”

“Anything?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I want a bicycle.”

“You already have a bicycle.”

“I want one for here. When we come to see papi.”

“We’ll get one. Just pick out what you want.”

So Junior picked out a reflective blue bike and Franco decided that there was still enough space in the car so he bought literally _everything_ Olivia put her hands on. He got her a walker, a tiny kitchen set, and then a toy car track to balance it out. He got some alphabet picture books and a rubber mat with alphabet holes. He got a 3D solar system puzzle, completely ignoring Isco when he pointed out that Olivia was only a year old. He got her three teddy bears, one of which was thrice her size. He got her a rag doll with brown hair and brown eyes just like herself. He stopped for a whole half-hour in the Lego aisle and accumulated four boxes of child-appropriate sets in his arms before Olivia removed the little yellow rubber duck that she’d been gnawing on from her mouth and yelled at him, “BUHHHHHH!”

Isco burst into laughter as Franco turned around in surprise to stare at her. “I think that’s her safe word,” he said. “That’s a great idea. I should use that when you’re being draggy.”

Franco tutted and thrusted the four boxes into Isco’s arms. “Hold these. I think she’s hungry.”

She _was_ indeed hungry for milk, but fortunately there was a feeding area in the store with some hot water so they could prepare the formula for her. It was filled with mothers and their kids, so Isco felt a little bit out of place as he sat there with Olivia in his lap, waiting for Franco. Olivia was fussing a little, too, which didn’t help. She was wriggling around like she was uncomfortable, and occasionally giving soft little whines.

“Where are the dads?” Isco whispered as Franco sat down next to him and took Olivia.

“Huh?” Franco asked, his hand pausing in the air. Olivia made grabby motions at it but couldn’t reach it. “Here? Are we talking about ourselves in third person now?”

Isco glared at him. His dad brain was settling in so rapidly. “No, like we’re the only dads here.”

Franco looked around, but the delay was too much for Olivia because her fussing finally boiled over to crying; she had a really soft crying voice, to Isco’s surprise. She didn’t scream or anything, just cried quietly and grabbed one of Franco’s buttons to get his attention.

“Doesn’t really matter, I guess,” Franco said quickly. He gave the bottle a final shake and fed it to Olivia, who stopped crying immediately and grabbed the bottle with both her small hands. “Okay. Okay. Okay, we’re good. Sorry, baby. Enjoy your milk.”

Isco smiled. This was exactly the kind of softness he knew would come from Franco. “Is there anything else we need?” he asked. “Should I go get something?”

“I’ll go pay for our stuff,” Franco said. He passed the bottle, then Olivia, to Isco. “Meet at the car?”

“Okay,” Isco said.

“Hey, buddy,” Franco said to Junior, who was sitting quietly next to Isco just staring at Olivia and fiddling with the ticket for his new bike. “Wanna come help me?”

Junior’s face lit up like he appreciated being noticed after so long. “Yes!” he said.

“C’mon,” Franco said, reaching for his hand. Junior grabbed on with both of his and clung on as Franco pushed the full cart with his free hand. “You got a bike, huh? Anything else you want?”

Isco listened to Junior blabber in Franco’s ear until they were too far to be heard. And even then the sight of Junior practically just hanging off Franco’s arm still brought a smile to Isco’s face. Neither of these two kids had Franco’s blood but Isco had no doubt that Franco loved them more than he loved himself.

Olivia finished her milk soon enough, so Isco burped her over his shoulder and put her back in the pram. “Let’s go find papi, ‘kay?” he said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

She didn’t say a word, but tilted her head to the side when she heard the word ‘papi.’ Isco thought that was a wonderful sign. He let her snooze as he strolled to the parking lot, where Franco and Junior were already waiting.

Franco sat in the backseat and watched Olivia sleep for the entire journey, like a creep.

Some of the children were finishing up dinner when Isco and Franco arrived at the orphanage. Olivia was still sleeping soundly, so Franco put her over his shoulder, her cheek all squished hard against Franco’s clavicle so she drooled a little bit onto Franco’s shirt. After signing her back in at the front office, they brought her to the quarters where all the younger children slept; most of them were already asleep, including the two others in Olivia’s room. They took a while to say goodnight.

“Sweet dreams, kiddo,” Franco whispered. He tried to hold Olivia at arm’s length but she had latched onto his collar with her tiny claws so Isco had to gently pry them open. Franco kissed her on both cheeks, then her forehead. “See you tomorrow. We’ll take you home.”

“Good night,” Isco said, kissing her on the nose. “See you soon. We’ll make everything nice for you.”

“Papa,” Junior tugged on Isco’s shirt to get his attention before Olivia could be put in her cot. “I want.”

So Franco held Olivia really low and Junior kissed her on the cheek but didn’t say anything. He probably didn’t know what to say. And Franco. Franco couldn’t bear to leave the place. He just stood by Olivia’s little cot and just watched her, looking so wistful at the thought of leaving her behind. Isco stood by his side, leaning on his shoulder, one arm around his waist and one arm holding Junior close.

“Look at our baby girl,” Franco whispered. “She’s gonna be our baby girl.”

Isco smiled. “Mmhmm,” he murmured. “I think she’s gonna be the most loved little girl in the entire world.”

Franco grinned. He pressed his lips on the top of Isco’s head. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” Isco asked.

Franco shrugged.

“Are you mad that she went to sleep without getting clean?” Isco asked.

Franco laughed softly. “I can't even be. Look at her.”

He was right. Olivia could do anything she wanted and neither Isco nor Franco would have any heart to stop her.

They stood there for a while more before Isco decided that he should probably offer some incentive for Franco to go home, so he suggested that they put together the new cot so Olivia could go home early the next day. It worked, and a half-hour later they were back home to find some of their buys already sitting in a stack outside their front door. Franco busied himself with carrying all the bags and boxes inside while Isco brought Junior to the bathroom to clean up. He already looked like he was going to fall asleep any second.

“You okay, kiddo?” Isco asked as Junior quietly took off all his clothes in the bathroom. “You want me to stay?”

“Tired, papa,” Junior said. He stepped into the shower and turned it on. He didn’t answer Isco’s second question, so Isco moved Junior’s dirty clothes into the hamper and sat down on the closed toilet.

“What do you think about Olivia?”

“I think she’s very cute,” Junior’s voice floated over the sound of the shower.

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. “You’ll help take care of her, yeah?”

“Okay papa.”

“You okay?”

Junior stuck his head out from behind the shower door. “Yes papa. I'm okay.”

“If you feel left out,” Isco ventured carefully. “Will you let us know? Maybe just me, if you don't feel like talking to papi?”

Junior smiled. “Okay,” he said.

“I just want you to know that no one can ever take your place, okay? Not just with me. With papi, too.”

“Okay,” Junior said again. He disappeared back behind the steamed-up door. “Almost done, papa.”

Isco wiped him dry and helped him put on clean pyjamas. Franco was in the master bedroom banging things around, so Isco brought Junior into the guestroom and tucked him into bed.

“Papa,” he said sleepily. “Tomorrow, I'm gonna have new baby sister?”

Isco smiled. “Mmhmm. Yeah.”

“She's only girl. In the whole family.”

“Yeah.”

“I think she gonna be princess.”

Isco laughed. Junior had said that with no hint of spitefulness whatsoever. Which made Isco so _sure_ that Olivia was going to be a princess and she was going to fucking own the whole family.

“Good night, baby,” Isco said.

“Night, papa.”

Isco decided to sit by Junior, on top of the sheets because he hadn’t showered. He sang Junior to sleep. He felt like for some reason he had to spend every moment making Junior feel that they weren’t about to replace him with a newer, shinier toy.

“Papa,” Junior mumbled when Isco thought that he’d already fallen asleep.

“Hmm?”

“I think I'm gonna be best big brother.”

Then he promptly fell asleep and Isco just couldn't wipe the big grin off his face. He went outside and Franco was back in the living room, tinkering around with the half-built cot, now in a white t-shirt instead of his denim shirt.

“She's gonna sleep in the living room?” Isco asked.

“It has wheels,” Franco said distractedly. “Hey. Do you see this screw anywhere?”

Isco took a look at the manual Franco was holding out. The screw looked exactly like the one Franco had stuck on the sole of his foot, so Isco plucked it out and gave it to him.

“Oh,” he said, exhausted. “Okay. I'm almost done.”

The cot was easy to put together; the vertical bars of the sides came assembled with the frame and all that was required was to fit the four sides together and attach them to the legs. It was just some screws and latches. Franco was done about twenty more minutes later. He pushed it into the room easily, given how his apartment was so fucking minimalist with all his tiny furniture.

“Not in the other room?” Isco asked as Franco locked the wheels of the cot in the corner of the main bedroom.

“Isn’t Junior sleeping there?”

“Yeah, but I thought maybe you wanted to give her her own room.”

Franco shrugged. “I thought – maybe it’s not fair to Junior that he has to share a room.”

“I don’t think he minds.”

“Yeah?” Franco sighed. He sat on the bottom corner of the bed. “I just feel like. Like maybe he’ll feel like we’re replacing him.”

Isco smiled. “Don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“I asked him a few times. He said he’s okay with it. And tonight he told me he thinks he’ll be the best big brother.”

“Yeah?” Franco said again, this time smiling. “He said that?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s just. Just now when we were shopping, he looked left out.”

“We’ll work on it,” Isco said, giving Franco’s hand a squeeze. “Yeah? But for now, don’t worry about it. We’ll see how it goes, yeah?”

Franco nodded. “I guess maybe we can let her play in Junior’s room.”

“That’s a great idea, yeah.”

“We should get a bigger house.”

Isco loved the way he said it. _We_ should get a bigger house. Not ‘ _I_ should get a bigger house.’

“Maybe when we get more kids,” he said.

“More kids?” Franco chuckled. “You want more kids?”

“I think we’re pretty good with kids.”

“Yeah,” Franco said thoughtfully. “Hey. I’m so happy that I have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause you know all about kids. And I’m so happy that Olivia will have a dad like you.”

Isco smiled. “I’m so happy that Olivia will have a dad like _you._ ”

Franco kissed him on the lips and Isco tasted the exhaustion and excitement of the entire day. He tasted Franco’s happiness above it all. It was something he would never get tired of.

“I’ll put the new dresser together so we can keep her clothes,” Franco murmured. “Why don’t you go take a shower and go to bed?”

“I’ll help you,” Isco offered.

He turned out not helping at all because Franco easily put together the pieces of plastic. He cleaned the drawers and filled them with Olivia’s new clothes before putting them inside. He saved a set for the washing machine, saying that Olivia wouldn’t be allowed to wear new clothes fresh from the store. Isco just couldn’t take his eyes off Franco for even one second because he felt like any of these moments could easily be the best moment of his life.

He finally settled down again on the same edge of the bed, sweat lining his brow. He started to take off his shirt and Isco watched the fabric be dragged over all the contours of his body for a while before sitting down.

“Are you gonna open the piece of paper now?” Isco asked.

Franco’s face lit up like he’d just remembered its existence. He stood up and retrieved the piece of paper from his back pocket before sitting down again.

“I can open this now?” he asked.

Isco nodded. “‘Course. I promised you.”

“I’m gonna open it.”

“Okay, baby.”

Franco’s hands were shaking slightly as he unfolded the piece of paper. Then he saw the word ‘girl’ and his face just. Just melted into an expression of relief, like there was a part of him that truly believed that Isco even minded what gender they got. Like there was a part of him that believed this would affect their relationship in any way at all.

“You wanted a girl,” he said softly, in awe. “Why?”

“I just thought you’d be so amazing with a girl.”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. “Just that?”

“Mmhmm,” Isco said. “I don’t have a preference for myself.”

“But you put ‘girl.’ You could’ve told me. Then we’d have tried to get a girl.”

“I don’t want that. I want what you want, which is anything. I just think that – that you’re so amazing and so gentle and you see the world in a way that a little girl would be so blessed to share.”

Franco’s smile grew. “What if we hadn’t gotten a girl?”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy and we have a little kid to show the world to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I wouldn’t have let you open this paper.”

Franco chuckled. He pressed his lips softly on Isco’s. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” Isco said. He instinctively pulled Franco closer so he was just straddling Franco’s hips like a baby bear, although he intended to say, “Can we go shower now?”

“Doesn't look like you wanna go shower,” Franco mumbled, wrapping his hand around Isco's thigh.

So they just. Just sat there at the edge of the bed and made out for a while. It was without any sort of urgency, just soft and slow and warm. And Franco kept giggling, which just. Just made Isco's heart so warm. When he decided he'd had enough, he stood up with Isco and just carried Isco to the bathroom under his arm like a really big bazooka.

Isco showered with him because it was late and Franco looked tired. He scrubbed Franco's abdomen in circles, watching the soap make a white lather.

“What's wrong?” he asked, because Franco had been abnormally quiet and thoughtful since they stepped into the shower.

“What if I don't know how to raise a girl?” Franco asked.

And Franco. When Franco spoke about what he _wanted_ in the future, it was always ‘us.’ _We. We should get a bigger house._ But when Franco spoke about what he _had to do,_ it was always ‘me.’ _I. What if I don’t know how to raise a girl?_

It was as if Franco took the entire weight of the world on his own shoulders just so he could provide everyone he loved with a perfect life.

“We’ll figure it out,” Isco said, softly. “Together.”

“You know, like,” Franco waved a hand in the air, spilling soap suds all over the flood. “You know? I don’t know...how she’s going to grow. I don’t know what clothes I should buy or what I should teach her. The different – different stages of her life. You know? Girls are...they’re so different from boys because it’s so difficult for them in this world. What if I don’t know anything about that? I don’t have any sisters. _You_ don’t have any sisters.”

“Franco. No two kids are the same. Even if we’d gotten a boy, there’s no way he would’ve grown up exactly the same as Junior did, or you did, or I did. Every kid is different and no matter which kid we get, we’re always gonna face these same problems about how they’re gonna grow and what they need at different stages of their lives. And that’s what being a parent is all about, isn’t it? We never know what’s gonna happen with our kids. We can only try our best. Yeah? Over time, maybe you’ll get it. Maybe you won’t. But you’ll try. And that’s what makes you a good parent. Yeah?”

Franco smiled and Isco’s world settled. “You think so?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Isco said. “And I’ll always be right here trying to figure it out with you. Always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you know what?”

“What?”

“Sonia will help us.”

Franco beamed. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah. She will.”

“If there’s anyone I have faith in to raise a girl,” Isco said, wiping the soap suds off Franco’s cheek. “It’s you. It’s you, Franco Vazquez.”

“Yeah?” Franco laughed. “Okay. You’re not saying this just to get in my pants?”

“You don’t have any pants on. I’m already in your pants.”

“Stop flirting with me.”

There was no way Isco was going to listen to that, so they had a little wrestling fight in the middle of the shower until Isco fell down on his ass and got laughed at by Franco because as much as he was a father now, he was also still a little boy in his heart.

Despite it being late, Franco decided that it would be the best time to read through and sign the papers for the fostering of Olivia. They weren’t going straight for adoption, like Isco had always imagined; it was probably because Franco thought it would be easier to get accepted if he fostered her first and showed that he was up for it. Since Spain had only recently allowed gay and single parents to adopt, the smoothness of it all wasn’t quite in place yet.

“So are you gonna sign it?” Isco asked, sprawled out next to him in bed.

“Of course,” Franco said. He sat up, crossed his legs, and put the papers in front of him lying flat. Then he meticulously signed every page. “Your turn,” he said, passing them to Isco.

Isco signed them, not with the same amount of grace, but with the same flourish.

“Her mom’s from Morocco,” Franco said, peering at Olivia’s file. “That’s why I thought – I mean – when I saw her I thought she didn’t really look…”

“White?”

“Spanish.”

“This is very hard to say without sounding racist.”

Franco laughed. “I just mean, she looks...ethnically different.”

“Not any better.”

“Let’s just accept that she’s at least half Moroccan.”

“What about her dad?” Isco asked.

“I don't know. It says 'dad: unknown.’”

“Well, now she has two.”

Franco smiled. “Yeah.”

“Is her mom still around?” Isco asked.

Franco’s eyes swept over the document. “Says here ‘passed away during childbirth.’”

What Carlos had said about it being impossible that Olivia be reunited with her parents had been nagging at the back of Isco’s head for the entire day, but now he finally understood why.

“You know what?” Franco said. “It’s not being racist if we’re just pointing out she looks different from us. We’re not saying that she looks bad or that she is bad. We’re just pointing out that she’s from somewhere else other than where we’re from. So it’s not racist and I’m gonna say that when I first saw her I noticed that her skin’s a bit darker, like a different kinda brown, and now I know why.”

Isco laughed at his sudden outburst. It was _adorable_. “Okay, baby. I noticed it, too. And her thick hair.”

“She’s so pretty. She’s gonna break a lot of hearts. Male and female.”

“She is,” Isco said, snuggling up against Franco’s shoulder. “She’s going to be beautiful and strong.”

Franco continued reading the pages of her file, quietly. Isco’s eyes followed his, languidly reading the lines he could make sense of with his tired brain. _Place of birth: Marbella, Málaga, Andalusia, Spain. Citizenship: Spanish. Vaccinated: Yes, see appendix for list and schedule. Allergies: None._

“Do you think it’s weird?” Franco suddenly asked.

“What’s weird?” Isco asked drowsily.

“That she’s a year old and she doesn’t speak a word.”

Isco realised Franco’s finger was pointing at Olivia’s date of birth: _15th July 2020._

“Maybe just ‘cause they don’t give individual treatment at the orphanage,” Isco said. “You know? So, like, since she’s one of the youngest, she’s...sort of left out of the older group she’s supposedly part of.”

“Did Junior already speak when he was one?”

“Not really,” Isco shrugged. “Just random words, or yes and no, that kind of thing.”

“She’s only said ‘buh.’”

Isco chuckled. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Don’t you think that even if she doesn’t say anything, she seems to... _understand_? She understands things happening around her. She just doesn’t verbalise them.”

“Yeah,” Franco said thoughtfully. “And we’ve only been with her one day. Maybe she does know some words.”

“That’s the spirit,” Isco mumbled. “We gonna teach her everything she’s gotta know.”

“I think you should go to sleep,” Franco laughed. He put the files and papers on the bedside table and retrieved his phone without jostling Isco. He swiped mindlessly through the notifications. “Did you post my photos? Creep.”

Isco laughed. “You look pretty.”

Franco opened Instagram and clicked his way to the post; it was a set of two photos they'd taken earlier. The first one was of Franco standing with Olivia sitting on his arm and Junior standing next to him holding his hand. Franco and Junior were smiling brightly at the camera but Olivia had her fingers around Franco's earlobe and was staring intently at him, brows furrowed like she was trying to analyse Franco as a person. Isco had taken the photo because he just had to have a memento of them in their matching denim.

The second photo was a candid taken by Junior; Olivia was in Isco's arms and she had grabbed Isco's nose in her tiny hand. She liked to do that, like she was playing a one-sided game of 'got your nose.’ Isco had his face scrunched up. Franco was sitting next to them, right cheek to the camera, laughing.

The caption was a single emoji of a family with two dads and two kids.

Franco chuckled as he scrolled through the comments. There were a couple in particular that caught both their eyes: _OMG U GOT A BABY!_ from Paulo, then quickly followed by an addition of _I WANNA MEET HER!_

Isco burst into laughter. “He sounds like he's doing much better, doesn't he?”

“It's great,” Franco said softly. “Yeah. I spoke to him a couple days ago.”

“Yeah? How'd he sound?”

“Like he's more in touch with himself.”

“That's great.”

“I asked him if he still wanted to marry Alvaro.”

“You mean like Alvaro asked us?”

“Yeah. Sounded like he wanted to ask Paulo but he was scared.”

“He probably is. What did Paulo say?”

“He said yes.”

Isco didn't know what else he was expecting. “Can I tell Alvaro that?” he asked. “It'll probably help with things.”

“Sure,” Franco said. He put his phone back and turned off the light. He settled on his side, the faint orange nightlight vaguely illuminating his cheek. “Night,” he said.

Isco closed his eyes. “G'night, papi.”

Franco chuckled. A few silent minutes passed before he said, softly, “Isco.”

And Isco opened his eyes again even though he was _exhausted_ because Franco called him by his first name and it usually meant that he was thinking about something and needed to hear Isco's opinion.

Franco was gazing over with worry-tinted eyes. Isco turned on his side and placed a palm on Franco's cheek, which seemed to calm him slightly.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“You know you'll always be my favourite, right?” Franco said softly. “You always have been.”

Isco was. He was relieved that this was it, that Franco was only worried because he thought Isco felt left out. But he was also sad that Franco thought this was something he had to clarify.

“Franco,” Isco said, giving his cheek a squeeze. “I know that there are many things in your life that you've wanted since before you met me. I know that they will always mean something to you in a different way than what I mean to you. But it doesn't matter to me. Okay? You can have different favourites for different parts of your life. I'll be here no matter what. I know that now you have Olivia and it's this. This big dream come true for you. And I'll always be here. I'll always support you. I'm her dad, too, remember? It doesn't matter to me that now she gets more attention. It's a different kind of attention. I want to give her attention, too. I want to make sure she gets to live the life that hadn't seemed possible before we came along.”

Franco sighed. He moved his face closer to Isco's and Isco could feel his warm breaths on his cheeks. “Sometimes you make me want to cry.”

“Why?”

“'Cause you're so amazing and I feel like I'll never get it.”

Isco smiled. Even though they’d been together for five years, Isco didn't think that warranted any compromise on their sweet-talking. He was glad Franco also thought that. “I think that about you, too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You'll always be my number one.”

Isco smiled. “You, too.”

“You think Olivia will like it here?”

“Olive will love it here,” Isco sighed happily. “Olive. Sounds nice. I'm gonna call her Olive.”

Franco tutted. “It's Olivia.”

“Olive,” Isco said sleepily.

Franco let it go. He hugged Isco close to him and squeezed tight. “Sweet dreams, Franny.”

“You too.”

And Isco did. He had the sweetest dreams of the future he had with his Franco and their new little baby Olive.


	12. Without You It's A Waste Of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,  
> Sooooo sorry for the late chapter. I can't apologise enough. I started my first semester in January and it's just been a wild ride since then. I try my best to keep my chapters to the same quality as before but I can tell that it's of a much lower standard now so thank you all so much for bearing with me. Especially now when the chapters start being descriptive as I do some much-needed character development for our baby Olivia. Thank you all for staying with me and for communicating with me in the comments or on tumblr. I really am so thankful for all of you. I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter and I'll try to come up with the next one as soon as I can. Thank you so much.
> 
> Also worth to note: The transfer deadline is somewhere in the middle of August but for the purposes of this timeline I have, I've put it as the 31st of August.
> 
> Title is from Strawberry Swing by Coldplay.

Franco woke up early the next day and put all the rubber corners on the furniture. He knew it was quite premature. Olivia didn’t seem to be able to walk yet. But Franco couldn’t _sleep_ and he just needed to do _something._

He got the set of clothes for Olivia and her new bedsheets out of the dryer and gave them a good ironing. He checked the handwashed handkerchiefs to see if they were dry. He prepared some mini sausage rolls for breakfast because he knew Junior would absolutely love them. Then he cleaned and dusted Olivia’s new playing mats and rugs and quietly set up two small playing areas for her, one in the corner of the living room and one in the remaining space in Junior’s room.

He managed to wake Junior up in the middle of it all, while sitting on the rubber alphabet mat he’d laid out at the foot of Junior’s bed and placing all of Olivia’s toys in a plastic box.

“Morning papi,” he said sleepily; when Franco turned, his eyes were closed and he was curled up all warm in his blanket with only his head sticking out.

“Morning, baby,” Franco said. He pushed the box into the corner and joined Junior in bed.

“Olivia gonna sleep here?” Junior asked, eyes open now and following Franco’s every move.

“She’ll sleep in the other room so she won’t bother you, yeah?” Franco said. “But she’ll play here with you. Is that okay?”

“Okay,” Junior said, yawning. “I wanna play with her.”

“You will,” Franco ruffled Junior’s hair. “Are you excited?”

“I’m very excited papi.”

“Me, too.”

“Papi,” Junior said. “Why you and papa cannot have your own baby?”

Franco chuckled. “It’s ‘cause only women can have babies. Like your mama had you. She held you and took care of you inside her body for nine months and then you popped out into this world. Olivia’s mom did that too.”

“Where’s her mama?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Why boys cannot have baby?”

“‘Cause we don’t have the space in our body to hold another person,” Franco said. “And we don’t have the correct strength and the correct parts to nurture a baby and push it out when it’s ready.”

Franco hoped, he prayed with all his might that Junior wouldn’t ask the question that would lead to the whole birds and bees talk, because Franco was _not_ ready to face that on his own. Fortunately, the new information seemed to tire Junior out adequately, because he closed his eyes again and sighed. “I take five minutes nap, papi,” he said.

“When you wake up there’ll be your favourite breakfast,” Franco said, getting out of the bed because it was so small he was beginning to be afraid it would break under his weight.

“Hmm, sausages,” Junior murmured as Franco closed the door.

He went back to the main bedroom, where he found Isco sitting up in bed, propped up by one straightened arm, blinking at his surroundings like he was confused. His eyes eventually landed on Franco.

“Oh,” he sighed in relief, collapsing back into bed. “I thought you’d gone to get Olivia without me.”

“I’d never do that,” Franco said. “I was putting out her stuff.”

Isco smiled sleepily. He turned over on his front and pushed his cheek into his pillow. “I wonder if she’s awake.”

“She probably is.”

“I guess this is our last quiet morning.”

Franco laughed. “You think she’ll be noisy in the mornings?”

Isco gave that a little thought, then said, “Doesn’t seem like it, right?”

“She’ll probably just sit in bed and stare at us.”

“Sounds like you,” Isco laughed, dodging when Franco poked him in the sides. “Let’s hurry go get her.”

“You have to get your lazy ass out of bed first.”

“I smell food,” Isco said. He got out of bed and started to walk out the door but Franco caught him and flung him into the bathroom.

“Teeth,” he said.

Isco tutted as he crashed into the sink and toppled their mug of toothbrushes. He straightened it and started to begrudgingly brush his teeth.

Franco went back outside and took the sausage rolls out of the oven. He placed them on the kitchen counter to cool but it wasn’t so long after that Isco and Junior came outside and started to steal them even though they were still steaming hot.

“Hey, they're hot,” Franco called as they scooped handfuls of sausage rolls. He was ignored, the both of them hopping to the coffee table juggling piping hot sausage rolls in their hands and giggling. “Hey! At least take a plate. Jesus.”

“Did you brush your teeth?” Isco asked Junior.

“Yes papa I brush my teeth.”

“Breathe for me – ew! You haven't brushed your teeth! No sausage rolls for you. Give them to me.”

Then he made Junior pour his sausage rolls into Isco's hand but they were _hot_ so he started yelling for a plate, which Franco provided just in time.

“I don't know why you two are like this,” he said. “I'm never letting Olivia stay with you.”

Isco scoffed. “Whatever you say. Give me my sausage rolls and we can go get Olive.”

Franco watched him gobble up the little pastries; he watched Junior return and follow suit, and they were like two peas in a pod, two _adorable_ peas, sitting side by side and eating their sausage rolls like they were the most delicious thing on earth.

He packed the remaining few sausage rolls into a paper bag and brought it along in the car, thinking he could get some food on the way. It was finished by Junior before they were even halfway to the orphanage.

Olivia looked like she had been up and about for some time; she was in the playroom with a couple of other older kids, sitting in the middle of the colourful rubber mat surrounded by equally colourful wooden blocks. Her hair was its usual mess but she was unbothered by it, her tiny hands arranging the blocks into something of her liking.

She didn’t notice the three of them at the window until one of her caregivers went over to her and gestured towards them. She turned towards the window and the three of them waved in eerie unison.

Olivia tilted her head curiously.

Then she smiled. She held up two cubes, navy blue in her left hand and bright orange in her right, and opened her arms in their direction, though she made no move towards them.

“She recognises us,” Franco said softly.

“Let’s go inside,” Isco suggested.

So they went inside and took off their shoes so they could join Olivia on the mat.

“Buh!” she greeted them. “Buh buh buh!”

Isco laughed. “Buh buh buh to you too, baby,” he said, squeezing her nose.

She reached over towards Isco, her diapered butt lifting off the ground, so she could give Isco’s nose a reciprocal squeeze. Then she did the same thing to Franco. She stared at Junior for a while but left his nose alone.

Franco picked her up and put her in his lap, sideways. “How are you today?” he asked.

Olivia turned to him and nodded. Didn’t say anything, just nodded.

“I’m gonna take that as you’re feeling good, yeah?” Franco smiled.

Olivia smashed the blue brick she had in her left hand softly into Franco's face. “Bluh,” she said.

“Ouch,” Franco laughed, taking the brick from her. “You know what colour this is? What colour is it?”

“Bluh,” Olivia said again. “Boo...luh.”

“I think that's right,” Franco said. He turned to Junior. “Is that right, baby?”

Junior nodded.

“She knows blue?” Isco asked incredulously. “That seems quite advanced.”

Franco took the orange block from her other hand. “What colour is this?” he asked.

Olivia stared at it for a while, then reached over and took it back. “Bluh,” she said.

“She only knows blue,” Franco concluded as Isco burst into laughter.

“Maybe she's trying to say 'block,’” Junior suggested.

“I think he's right,” Isco said. “Wow. We have two smart kids. We hit the jackpot.”

He was right, but Franco had no time to entertain him. He scooped Junior into his lap opposite Olivia. “This is your brother,” he said softly. “You remember him, yeah? He’s gonna play with you.”

Olivia stared at Franco in the way Franco realised was kind of her trademark way: brow furrowed and eyes half-closed like she was part-judging, part-thoroughly confused. To help her along, Franco took the orange block from her again and put it in Junior’s hand.

She responded by leaning over and taking it back before grabbing Junior’s nose in her hand and squeezing it. Then she leaned back on Franco’s arm and looked at him like she was asking, _did I do what you wanted?_

“I think she just baptised you,” Isco remarked. “You’re part of her gang now.”

Junior laughed. “I think she is our princess.”

“Mmhmm,” Isco said. “Princess Olive.”

Olivia gave a soft incoherent mumble, then rolled out of Franco’s lap onto her hands and knees, throwing her orange block in front of her and crawling towards another area of toys.

“Papi we gonna take her home now?” Junior asked.

“Maybe let's watch her for a while?” Franco wrapped his arms around Junior. “So we know what she's like.”

So they did, just sat there as the group of about five or six other young children maneuvered their way around them. Olivia didn't really interact with them, just sat on her own with her random collection of toys surrounding her; a couple of wooden blocks, a small blue bear, and the rubber mat full of alphabets and shapes that she was currently obsessed with in front of her, her brows furrowed again as she tried to squeeze the wrong shapes into the wrong holes. Occasionally another child came by and took some pieces or toys from her collection but she didn't fight or respond, nor did she smile or interact in any way. She just continued on her own. She seemed to forget that the three of them were there.

“Papi can I go help her?” Junior asked.

“Okay, go,” Franco gave him a little nudge.

Junior sat down next to Olivia and took one of the spongy letters, the letter X. He put it into the correct hole and then turned to Olivia, who was staring at him.

Olivia eventually picked up the letter T and examined the board for a few moments before trying to squeeze it into the hole for L.

Junior pointed at the hole for T. Olivia followed his finger and turned the letter she had around until it could fit into the hole. She appeared contented with her small accomplishment, and picked up another letter and handed it to Junior for his turn.

They took turns putting in the letters, Junior removing the wrong ones and putting them in the right places while Olivia gravitated towards the shapes.

“I think they gonna be best friends,” Isco said in his best imitation of Junior's voice.

Franco burst into laughter. “I think so too.”

Olivia and Junior were done with the shape board a few minutes later; Olivia moved on seamlessly to her next toy, but Junior sat there for a while, abandoned, before eventually returning and sitting with Isco.

“I think she don't like people,” was Junior’s verdict.

Isco laughed. “Just some sibling rivalry.”

“No, all people. I think she wanna be alone.”

“She's just like your papi, then.”

Franco ignored them. He was having so much fun watching Olivia doing her thing. She soon got bored, though, and examined the room before tilting her head at Franco.

Franco opened his arms and gestured for her to come over.

She crawled towards him, slowly but steadily, and stopped a couple feet away. She swivelled onto her butt to face Franco, then pulled at the waistband of her diaper until it stretched out and Franco could see the inside. She jabbed a finger eagerly at the opening.

“Oh,” Franco said. “I think she needs a change.”

“She wants you to see what she’s made,” Isco said, laughing.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. He picked Olivia up and fetched her out of the playroom. “What did you make? The big one or the small one?”

Olivia shook her fist in Franco’s face so Franco took it to mean that she’d pooped. He was handed a diaper by a caregiver who informed him that Olivia always did that diaper thing when she needed a change, so Franco guessed he just had to get used to that.

Franco put her down on the changing room table and undid her dirty diaper; it was smeared with brown, as he’d expected. He spoke to her while he wiped her clean and changed her, in the baby voice he'd previously only used with Junior.

“How are we now?” he asked, throwing the soiled diaper in the bin and leaning over to kiss her nose. She smelled. She smelled like _a baby._ “Better? Yeah? All nice and fresh.”

Olivia gave a loud happy screech, then proceeded to grab two handfuls of Franco's hair and tug at it so hard that Franco almost fell forward onto her.

“Okay, okay,” Franco laughed. “Papi has to wash his hands first, 'kay? Hold on a moment.”

So he went over to the sink and quickly washed his hands, pressured by Olivia's soft cooing waiting for him to go back because she was having trouble sitting up by herself. Franco asked her if she wanted to wash her hands too, and she seemed to recognise the hand washing motion Franco made because she copied it and nodded.

She was so excited to wash her hands that she couldn't stop giggling, even when she was done and Franco was drying her hands with a paper towel. She stared at her hands, front and back, and mumbled something to herself before giggling.

“I think you and your papa are gonna get along very well,” Franco said to her.

She responded with more giggles, which caught the attention of Isco and Junior as Franco walked over to where they were waiting outside the changing room.

“What tickled her?” Isco asked, gently rubbing his fingers over Olivia's tummy, which made her giggle harder. “Oh. I mean besides me.”

“Nothing,” Franco said. “She just likes to wash her hands, I think.”

“She’s clean, like you,” Isco noted.

Franco laughed because Isco was saying these things like he wanted to write them all down in a notebook for future reference. Which was useful. Because Franco – Franco just wanted to live in every moment and he was afraid that he was going to forget what Olivia liked and what she meant by doing certain things.

“Do you want to go home with us?” Franco asked Olivia.  “Let's go home, yeah? Wanna say goodbye to this place? Say bye bye.”

Olivia raised her hand in a small wave when she heard 'bye bye,’ though she did it at Franco instead of at her surroundings. She looked – not only curious, but also a little bit reluctant as she did it, so at least Franco had that going for him.

Franco decided to give her a little push along by directing her to say goodbye to the caregivers they passed in the halls, and to the kids in the playroom. She seemed to get the gist of it after a while, obliging to hugs whenever she was offered. They met Carlos near his office, and he gave them a duffel bag containing some of Olivia's clothes and some toys she'd taken a liking to over her year at the orphanage, as well as a hairdressing kit. He gave their forms a read-through and told them everything should be fine, then let them go on their way.

Only when they were standing at their car near the main gates of the orphanage did Olivia really _get_ what was going on. She tugged on Franco's collar, then when she got his attention, stretched her hand out to the side and swiveled her wrist in a wave. Then she tilted her head at Franco, her eyebrows slanting down at the sides in confusion.

“Is she asking me if we're leaving?” Franco asked.

“I think so,” Isco said.

Franco smiled. “Yes, baby,” he said, pinching Olivia's nose. “We're taking you home, and you're gonna stay with us and we're gonna love you forever.”

The confusion remained on Olivia's face as she gave Franco's nose a squeeze.

Franco nodded.

Olivia burst into the _brightest_ smile. She hugged Franco tightly around his neck and pressed her head snugly into the crook of Franco's neck, giggling softly into Franco's ear.

Franco just. Franco suddenly felt so _sad_ and so happy at the same time because he wanted to give Olivia everything he could afford to but he wasn't sure if he could because Olivia deserved far more than anyone could ever give her.

Franco wasn't sure how long his moment with Olivia lasted, but he was nudged out of it when Isco suggested, “Let's take a photo at the gate.”

There was some fuss trying to get Olivia to look at the camera, but they eventually got their photograph next to the sign for the orphanage with the help of the receptionist.

“Say bye bye again,” Franco said softly, hoisting Olivia more firmly in his arm. “Say bye bye one last time.”

“Buh,” Olivia said. She waved her hand violently towards the building.

Franco rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek. Then he buckled her into her car seat and sat back to watch her as she craned out of it again when they drove out into the city, her eyes struggling to catch up with everything that was passing them by. She was soon completely knackered from the morning's activities, and fell asleep with her cheek pressed on the window. She slept throughout lunch but woke up in time for shopping at the supermarket, sprawling out in her pram and sucking on her bottle of milk as they wandered the aisles.

“Do you want anything?” Isco asked, bending over to her eye level as he walked. “Just point out anything you want, okay?”

She didn’t seem to understand what he was trying to say, so he pointed at a roll of digestives, then picked it off the shelf and put it in their trolley. Olivia followed suit, jabbing her finger at a colourful box of animal crackers which she refused to let Isco put into the trolley and instead settled with hugging it to herself.

“We need to get her diapers,” Franco said.

“Okay,” Isco replied, examining the signs for the diaper aisle. “But make sure you just get diapers and not like, five thousand other things.”

Franco rolled his eyes. He pondered over the different sizes and brands of diapers until he felt a soft tugging on the fabric of his pants.

Olivia was leaning out of her pram, pointing eagerly at one of the diaper brands with a bright teal logo. Then she lifted her dress and pointed to the colour the pattern on her diapers had. She tilted her head at Franco.

“Hmm,” Franco said, retrieving a packet of diapers and squatting down next to Olivia. Her diaper had the same teal colour on its pattern. There was a faint imprint of the brand on the front, which was the same as the one Franco was holding. The size was on a small tag on the side. “I think you’re right.”

Olivia placed a hand on the packet to assure Franco she _was_ right. What choice did Franco have except to believe her? “Buh,” she said, followed by an assortment of noises.

“Okay, okay,” Franco laughed. “But if you don’t like it, you’re coming with me again to get new ones.”

He stood up and turned to put the diapers into their trolley, but Isco and Junior had disappeared. They’d probably gone on by themselves to get more food, so Franco pushed the pram towards the colourful dairy section that Olivia was earnestly leaning towards.

They spent some time there, Franco taking down each carton of milk in all the different colours and holding it up for Olivia to approve. She shook her head at most of them but nodded at a few blue and green ones before she got restless and laid back in her pram.

“Where were you?” Franco asked as Isco and Junior rounded the neighbouring aisle and approached them with what looked like a fuller shopping cart.

“Getting more food, you never have any food at your place,” Isco said. “What have you got?”

“Diapers,” Franco put the bag in the cart. “And Olivia picked these.”

“She _picked_ this?” Isco asked. He picked up one of the cartons. “You don't even drink almond milk. You hate almond milk.”

“She picked them,” Franco said again. “Maybe she'll like it.”

“She can't even drink this, Franco.”

“What if I put it back and it breaks her heart?”

“She won't even remember. Pick something else and ask her.”

Franco picked the soy milk he usually got; fortunately, it was in a dark blue colour, which Olivia seemed to gravitate towards. He held it in front of Olivia, who was distracted by a stray thread on her dress. She gave him a vague nod, and didn't even notice as he put the almond milk back in the fridge.

Olivia was quiet as she was wheeled through the aisles. She picked out her own can of milk formula, matching it to the photo Franco was holding. She seemed to really like matching things to each other, though she wasn’t so good at it yet, especially given what happened in the morning with the alphabet board. The rest of the time, she spent leaning on the front of her pram, head out and watching her surroundings curiously. She didn’t make any noise or fuss, or try to ask any questions, preferring to keep to herself and wait for the attention to come to her rather than to call for it.

Franco squatted next to the pram at the end of the checkout area as Isco and Junior queued, not wanting to hog the narrow space. Olivia beamed at him, showing all the teeth she had, and dribbling down the edges of her lips.

Franco had never loved anything more in his entire life.

He wiped Olivia's mouth and chin with a handkerchief. He swept her hair off her forehead. It stayed obediently in a dark brown pile on her head.

She was a peaceful chaos, just like Isco.

“Are you having fun?” Franco asked.

Olivia stared at him again, the corners of her mouth lifting in a hesitant smile, like she didn't quite understand but wanted to respond.

Franco laughed. He leaned under the pram shade and gave Olivia loud smooches on her cheeks. “I love you,” he said in between.

Olivia giggled, her small hands grabbing handfuls of Franco's hair. She pulled his head closer and put some of Franco's hair into her mouth.

“Oh, no,” Franco said, caught by surprise. “Hey. Nope. You can't eat that.”

Olivia gave a disgruntled yelp as Franco pulled his hair out of her grasp and cleaned the drool off it with the handkerchief. Franco gave her the handkerchief to gnaw on and she was satisfied.

Isco and Junior returned with the paper bag-filled cart and stopped next to them, Isco holding two small red stuffed roses with thick green stalks.

“One for you,” he said, putting it in Franco's hand. He crouched next to Olivia, surprising her out of chewing the handkerchief, and handed her the other rose. “One for my little princess.”

She grabbed it with both hands – it looked so much larger in hers than in Franco’s – and examined it for a few moments before putting one of the large stuffed rose petals into her mouth.

“Probably going to see more of those teeth appearing soon, huh?” Isco smiled.

They drove home quietly, Olivia chugging on some warm water from her milk bottle, looking exhausted as she leaned back in her car seat, legs sprawled wide. Junior was on the other side of Franco in the backseat, chewing slowly on a brownie.

“Are you tired?” Franco asked him.

“Little bit,” Junior said. “Papi. Can I play with her later?”

“Of course. You can play with her anytime you want. She’s your sister.”

“You think she gonna like me?”

“Mmhmm,” Franco said, hugging him close. “I think she just needs some time to warm up to you. She doesn’t talk much, don’t you think?”

“I think she don’t know. We can teach her.”

“That’s right,” Franco beamed.

“I’m gonna miss her when I go back home.”

“We’ll talk all the time,” Franco assured him. “Yeah? We’ll Skype.”

“Okay.”

“You just have to remember that we’ll always be one family, ‘kay?”

“Okay papi,” Junior said. He leaned against Franco’s side and closed his eyes. “Papi I take five minutes nap again.”

Five minutes later they were home, unfortunately, so Franco had to nudge Junior awake. He fussed a little, though, so Franco had to haul him into the house in one arm while Olivia was propped up on the other, curiously examining her surroundings again. He put Junior on the couch and Olivia in her new play corner.

“Watch her a little while, baby,” he called to Junior as he went back to help Isco with the shopping bags. He doubted Junior heard him, but it seemed not to be a problem because Olivia just sat there, doing nothing.

She still looked confused when they were back, gazing over at them as they put the bags in the kitchen. She paid no attention to the new toys surrounding her. She got on her hands and knees like she wanted to crawl over to Isco and Franco, but stopped after a couple of steps.

Franco helped her take off her shoes and socks, placing them next to the front door. He emptied one of the toy trunks that were tucked into the corner of the play area. Huge Lego blocks and soft rubber and cloth balls rolled out of it; Olivia's eyes tracked as many of them as they could until they stopped in front of her.

“These are yours,” Franco said, putting a yellow ball in her lap. “You can play with all of them.”

Olivia blinked a few times, then crawled slowly to the pile of big Lego blocks, plopped her diapered butt down, and started to fiddle with them.

Franco couldn't _wait_ for her to be the appropriate age to play with proper Legos.

“What should we make for dinner?” Franco asked, standing next to Isco as he unpacked some of the bags. He stood facing the living room so he could see Olivia.

Isco said something but Franco was distracted by Olivia's colourful tower of plastic blocks that had toppled over onto her foot. Franco held his breath waiting for her to burst into tears – but instead, she just grabbed her foot, lifted it enough to put it into her mouth, and sucked on her big toe a little bit until she forgot about the pain. Then she continued with the blocks.

“Did you hear what I said?” Isco asked.

“Hmm?” Franco said.

Isco chuckled. “Why don't you go sit with Olivia? I'll cook.”

“Was that what you said?”

“No, I gave a short lecture about what kind of food I think she can eat at this age.”

“Say it again.”

“Just go sit with her, won't you? You're way too distracted to cook. You're just smiling to yourself.”

“Okay,” Franco relented. “But you're giving me that lecture before bed.”

“Mmm, kinky,” Isco said, voice fading as he moved away to prepare the food. Franco had no idea what he would make, but he saw some potatoes on the counter, so he could guess.

He wandered over to Olivia and sat down next to her, fitting nicely into the rubber mat he’d put out that morning. With Junior while he was younger, Franco could count on receiving a toy or a piece of whatever Junior was playing with once every couple of seconds, as well as being the target of Junior’s incessant babbling, as Junior’s way of inviting him to join in. But with Olivia, neither of those happened. She kept to herself, not even acknowledging Franco when he sat down. She was lost in her own hand movements, despite not seeming to understand what exactly she was aiming for with her toys. Even when she realised Franco was there, she made no move to include him, just glanced at him before returning her attention to the front.

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Franco said as he joined Junior on the couch. He sat on the armrest while Junior rested his chin on it, still drowsy from his nap.

“I don’t think she likes anyone, papi,” Junior reminded him.

“Do you think she really just enjoys playing by herself?”

“Maybe.”

“You were never like that. You always dragged me in.”

“Papi we are different,” Junior said. “Were you like her when you were young? Or like me?”

“I was like her.”

“So how did your papi play with you?”

“I don’t remember. He probably just sat there until I responded.”

“Why don’t you do that too?”

“What if she doesn’t like it?”

Junior sighed. “Papi I cannot help you. She doesn’t like me either.”

Franco ruffled Junior’s hair. It probably wasn’t that Olivia _didn’t like_ them. It was probably just that she was just a classic introvert.

“What are you two doing just sitting there?” Isco called from the kitchen. Olivia was briefly distracted by his voice, but soon returned to her yellow blocks.

“She doesn't wanna play with us,” Franco said.

“Papa what's for dinner? I'm hungry,” was Junior's contribution.

Isco wandered over and stood next to Olivia's area, hands on his hips. “How do you know she doesn't want to play with you?” he asked.

“Should you be taking care of something in the kitchen?” Franco asked.

“Lasagna's in the oven, potatoes are boiling,” Isco said. He squatted down next to Olivia. “Hi, darling,” he said.

Olivia mumbled something no one could make out. Her dribble dripped off her chin and formed a pool between her legs.

“C'mere,” Isco grunted as he sat down. He took Olivia by her underarms and planted her between his crossed legs, wrapping his arms around her and guiding the toys to her little hands. She didn’t bother about him at first, just weaved her way around his hands to get to whatever she wanted while her butt remained firmly planted in between Isco’s legs – but she eventually caved, holding on to Isco’s fingers with one of her chubby hands. “Do you want papi to play with you? Yeah? You wanna play with papi?”

Olivia paused her playing when Isco persistently repeated ‘papi’ into her ear. She turned to him curiously, then back around until her eyes landed on Franco. She stretched out a hand, on which sat a bright yellow Lego block. “Pi,” she said, a drop of saliva flying across the rubber mat.

Franco was _overjoyed._

He sat across from Isco, who passed Olivia over. He put Olivia between his crossed legs, retrieving her handkerchief from his pocket and using it to wipe her mouth. “Try saying ‘papi’ again,” he urged.

“Buh,” was Olivia’s reply.

“We’re back to ‘buh,’ huh?” Franco smiled; he couldn’t help it. Olivia was. She just made him so _happy._

She still focused mainly on her toys, all the attention she afforded to Franco being leaning on his chest and thighs for support. But she eventually paid Franco full attention by holding his fingers and putting them in her mouth so she could chew on them. She had this look of concentration on her face, one hand gently over two of Franco's fingers holding them in place while her other hand was still clutching a green brick, like she was focused on gnawing Franco's hand open.

“This is a little bit disgusting,” Franco remarked, watching Olivia drool all over his hand.

Isco burst into laughter. “Well, you wanted her attention.”

“Maybe we should get her some kind of chew toy.”

“I think there's a pacifier somewhere in all the junk you bought yesterday,” Isco said. “I'll get it. Baby, go play with your sister,” he told Junior, his voice fading as he disappeared down the hallway.

“Sterilise it first,” Franco called distractedly.

Junior sat himself down next to Franco and Olivia. He was confused at first about what to do, but eventually picked up a quilted cloth ball and threw it softly at Olivia so it landed in her lap.

Olivia paused her gnawing, looking down to see what had just appeared in front of her, her three little chins showing again. She let go of her brick and grabbed the fabric of the ball, wondering what to do with it.

Junior launched another cloth ball, this time an olive green one which landed at Olivia’s feet.

Olivia tried returning the quilted ball, but only succeeded in throwing it a foot away. She looked at Junior for approval, so Junior reached for the ball and threw it back. Olivia tried again with the green ball; this time, it landed further. Spurred on by her tiny success, Olivia tried the quilted one again and it landed closer to Junior.

She gave a loud victorious screech, clapping her hands and gazing eagerly at Junior like she wanted him to throw the balls back immediately.

They tossed the balls between themselves for a while, the act of it so simple yet entertaining Olivia so thoroughly that she completely abandoned Franco’s fingers and crawled out of his lap for better access to the balls, allowing Franco to finally get his hands clean. She occasionally gave loud yelps and giggles, urging Junior to hurry up.

“Oh,” Junior said as one of the balls Olivia threw landed right smack in one of her saliva pools. “That’s gross.”

Franco laughed. “We’ll wash it.”

“I’m not touching it anymore.”

It was just in time, too, because Isco was done with the whole pacifier thing and was back in the kitchen, yelling, “Showers, boys, dinner is almost ready!” Following a short pause, he added, “Boys and Olive!”

Franco stood up, picking Olivia up and scooping Junior into his other arm like a bazooka. “Come on, boys and Olive. Let’s go shower.”

Junior could handle his own shower, so Franco got out their new plastic tub and filled it with warm water from the sink. Olivia fit snugly into it, sloshing the water against the sides and onto the bathroom counter. She sat quietly waiting for Franco to bathe her.

Franco took his time, lathering the new baby soap in his hands and all over Olivia, who giggled when it tickled her. She was attentive when Franco spoke to her in his special baby voice, though she only responded with half-formed words. She didn't splash or make a mess with the bubbles, instead choosing to quietly watch them pop on her arms, curiosity reflecting in her bright brown eyes.

Her hair was a whole other story.

The strands seemed to gain more affinity for each other each time Franco ran his fingers through them. The shampoo made her hair extra squeaky to the point where Franco couldn't even get past her roots with his fingers. He tried, of course, but was intimidated by her soft growls, so he stopped. He washed the shampoo suds out of the clump of hair lying at the base of her neck; she obviously hadn’t had a haircut in a long time. Probably since she was born. Franco wondered if it was because no one could deal with her hair.

“I’m just gonna put loads of conditioner, ‘kay?” Franco whispered. “I’ll get you more. Don’t tell papa.”

The conditioner helped Franco comb his fingers through Olivia’s hair and sort of straighten it a little. He took her out of the tub and put her on her back at the edge of the sink so he could rinse her hair out under the tap. She seemed to enjoy it, her eyes rolling all the way up to look at Franco and giggle softly.

He wrapped her hair in a towel, too afraid to rub it in fear of it just automatically tangling up again. He rubbed her dry with another towel, though, which got her all jiggly and giggly again, screaming in laughter and holding on to Franco’s fingers. Franco put her in her new onesie but her hair was dripping on it, so he wrapped it up more tightly.

“Who’s the cutest?” Franco cooed, leaning over and planting endless kisses on her little face, which was framed by the towel turban. “Huh? You’re the cutest. Yeah? You’re the cutest.”

Olivia screeched happily and slapped Franco’s cheeks with both her hands. She chomped down on Franco’s nose when she managed to get her mouth to it, making Franco laugh and in turn causing her to giggle again.

There was a tugging at Franco’s leg, which turned out to be Junior, fresh and damp from his shower. “Papi,” he said. “I want kiss too.”

Franco smooched him on both cheeks and ruffled his wet hair, which sent water droplets splashing onto Olivia. She blinked a few times, rubbed her face with her palm, then turned earnestly to Franco to see what came next.

Franco brought them both outside and deposited them on the couch, turning on the TV and instructing Junior to watch Olivia for a while.

He heard a laugh from the kitchen as he passed it on the way back to get himself washed up. He backtracked and found Isco laughing to himself over the stove.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She looks like she just had a spa,” Isco said.

Franco turned to the couch; Olivia was still small enough to be hidden behind the back, but her towel turban stuck out, wobbling as she moved. “She does,” Franco laughed.

“Are you going to shower?” Isco asked.

“Yeah, got myself all wet while bathing Olivia,” Franco starting walking to the bathroom. “Can't wait for dinner. Smells great.”

“Wait for me,” Isco said, turning the stove off and leaving the pot of mashed potatoes on the counter. He checked the lasagna in the oven, which had five minutes left on the timer. Then he scurried after Franco. “I wanna shower too.”

“Kinky,” Franco remarked.

Isco slapped him on the shoulder. “The kids are waiting for us.”

“The kids,” Franco smiled as Isco retrieved two sets of clean clothes and headed into the bathroom. They stood in the middle of it taking off all their clothes. “I like the sound of that.”

Isco chuckled, pushing Franco into the shower. He turned on the water and immediately got right into it, pumping a large dollop of shower gel and splattering it all over Franco's abdomen.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Franco looked at him and just. He was just suddenly filled with so much _love_ that he didn't know how else to respond except to grab Isco's face and kiss him on the lips.

They turned upwards into a soft smile as Isco's hands wandered upwards, over Franco's abdomen, his arms, and up onto his shoulders, soaping his skin the whole way. He let Franco kiss him for a while longer before he pulled away, his head and nose touching Franco's, and asked softly, “So?”

“Just…overwhelmed,” Franco whispered. “Like I can't really process it yet. I think. Maybe when I get some quiet time and I can actually think about it. Then I'll be able to tell you how I feel.”

Isco smiled. “Okay,” he said.

“How do you feel?”

“Just so incredibly proud of you.”

Franco sighed. “I don't know what I'd ever do without you.”

“Just be yourself,” Isco whispered.

Franco thought that sounded like the most boring thing in the world.

Isco was oblivious to that. He guided them both under the shower and let it wash the suds off them, probably only hurrying because he didn't want to leave the kids alone for too long. Indeed, he washed himself off first and escaped, putting on his clothes and going to fetch Olivia back into the bathroom with Junior in tow. He found Olivia's new hairbrush in a bag next to the sink, gave it a wash, and started blow-drying Olivia's hair with the lowest setting on the hairdryer while she sat on the edge of the sink, looking at herself in the mirror with suspicious eyes.

“Does it hurt?” Isco asked above the noise. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

The hairbrush went through her wet curls easily, to Isco's surprise but not Franco's. Isco let Franco know of that observation when Franco joined them, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

“What did you do to her hair?” he asked.

“Conditioner,” Franco said. It was true.

“A lot of it,” Junior added.

Franco grabbed him by the waist and sat him on the counter, tickling his sides so he burst out laughing. “Snitch,” Franco said. “You're a little snitch, aren't you?”

“I'm not little, papi,” Junior pointed out.

“You do it,” Isco said, passing the hairdryer and brush to Franco. “I'll deal with the snitch.”

“Papa you're supposed to be on my side!”

Isco laughed. He dragged Junior out of the bathroom by the back of his shirt. “I am on your side,” he said, voice fading away. “I'll let you eat dinner first.”

Franco turned the hairdryer on again and Olivia started to imitate it, growling softly again as she watched her hair start to dry and puff up again in the mirror. Franco thought it was because he was pulling too hard, but the growling stopped when he turned off the hairdryer and continued brushing, so he guessed it was just another of Olivia's little quirks.

As much as Olivia had thick hair, it was also relatively short and she was still small so it took only a few minutes to get it mostly dry. Franco gave it a few more brushes, then handed the hairbrush to Olivia.

“All pretty now, yeah?” he kissed her on the cheek. “My beautiful girl.”

Olivia decided that she would try to do what Franco was doing earlier, but alas, she could barely reach the top of her hair pile. She managed to flick the bottom of her curls a little, though.

“Now we know the secret for your hair,” Franco said, hoisting her on his arm and bringing her outside, where Isco was setting out two more plates. “Half a bottle of conditioner.”

Olivia tried to repeat that but only sounded like she was babbling nonsensical words with similar inflections as what Franco said. She started drooling again when she was put in Franco's lap at the table, giving a happy high-pitched shriek when she saw the bowl of mashed potatoes in front of her. She dug her bare hands into it and started shoveling handfuls of it into her mouth while Franco struggled to put her bib on.

“I hope this wasn't meant for sharing,” Franco said.

Isco laughed. “You share with her.”

“I don't have my own?”

“That was yours.”

Franco sighed but it wasn't like he minded too much. He tried feeding Olivia with a spoon but she was far more interested in her own method, keening off Franco's lap and supporting herself on the table with her elbows until she could stand on his thighs, then almost burying her entire face into the bowl as she ate greedily.

“Use this, baby,” Franco urged for like, the seventh time. He held a spoonful of mashed potatoes near Olivia's mouth. “Use this.”

Olivia pushed it aside with her hand. Franco took it and wiped it clean, then put the spoon in it. He guided her hand towards the bowl and scooped another spoonful.

Olivia brought it to her mouth successfully and obediently, but immediately decided that the spoon had a far smaller portion than her hands, so she flung the spoon on the table and proclaimed, “Nooooo!”

“Hey,” Isco said, softly but firmly. He picked up the spoon and made Olivia hold it. “Use this or no food.”

Olivia didn't seem to understand but Isco moved the bowl away when she tried using her hands again so she ended up begrudgingly using the spoon, splattering her food all over her bib. Franco sat still, too afraid to move his arms from around Olivia's waist so she wouldn't fall.

“Papi you forgot to get her a high chair,” Junior pointed out helpfully.

“I'll get her one tomorrow,” Franco said distractedly, watching the droplets of mashed potato land on the table and floor and everywhere. He took the spoon from Olivia. “Why don't I feed you, baby? Yeah?”

Olivia sulked, looking so deflated now that she could neither eat with her hand nor her spoon. She glared at Franco a bit before plopping her butt down on his lap and playing forlornly with the bits of mashed potato on her fingers.

Franco tipped her chin upwards so she could see the spoonful of mashed potatoes Franco was trying to put in her mouth. She opened it obediently and chomped down, munching loudly. She smiled widely again and grabbed Franco's spoon-wielding thumb, shaking it up and down to hurry Franco for another mouthful.

“Should I let her eat by herself?” Franco asked. “Do you wanna eat by yourself? Oh, but you're making such a big mess. Maybe you'll eat by yourself when we get a high chair, okay? Let's clean your mouth – oh, your bib is dirty. I've made it worse. Okay, hold your spoon. I'll get a towel. Alarcon, baby, could you get me a towel, please.”

Then he turned and saw Isco with his phone up, videoing the whole monologue, and it was Franco's turn to be deflated as Olivia got on her feet again and sloppily shoveled mashed potatoes into her mouth with her spoon.

Isco laughed as Franco glared into the camera. He put it aside and retrieved one of Olivia's handkerchiefs that Franco had left on the kitchen counter. He leaned over the table and gently dabbed at Olivia's cheeks.

“You're so dirty,” he cooed. “You need to be more like your papi.”

Olivia responded by trying to feed him but only succeeding in smacking him on the nose with the spoon.

“I should have gotten a video of _that_ ,” Franco said as Isco wiped slush off his face.

“Plenty of chances,” Isco said.

Franco didn’t realise that he hadn’t taken a bite of his own dinner until Olivia was done eating and he was at the couch watching her play. Isco sat down next to him with a bowl of mashed potatoes and a slice of lasagna.

“Have something to eat,” he said. “You haven’t taken a single bite.”

Franco laughed. “I didn’t notice.”

“Well, you’ve got your hands full,” Isco said. He handed the potatoes to Franco and started feeding him the lasagna. “But you have to remember to take care of yourself, ‘kay?”

“You and Junior? Are you full?”

“Yeah,” Isco smiled. “I think he went to look for some toys. He’ll be out soon.”

Surely enough, Junior came barrelling out a couple of minutes later, hugging all the toys he could fit in his tiny arms. He charged all the way to where Olivia was, staring into space at her play area, and dumped all the toys in front of her. Then he sat down and introduced them to her one by one while she tried to take it all in but only succeeding in furrowing her brow at all of Junior’s movements.

“When are you going back?” Franco asked, suddenly just. Just really afraid of being left alone with Olivia.

Isco seemed to realise. “Maybe the day after tomorrow?” he asked. “We can stay longer. I can probably ask to stay longer.”

“I don’t want to disrupt anything,” Franco said. “I just – you know.”

“You’re afraid of being left alone with her?”

Franco shrugged. “Just – you know – how am I gonna take care of her?”

“You’ve done it before,” Isco said softly, snuggling up closer to Franco while managing not to spill the mashed potato all over. “With Junior. You’ve been preparing for this your entire life. You can’t possibly be more prepared. You did it with him and you did so well and he’s grown up to be the most perfect boy in the world. Now you’re gonna do the same with our Olive.”

“He’s not just _me_ ,” Franco said. “He’s you and Sonia.”

“Olivia’s gonna be you and me and Sonia, too.”

Franco sighed again. He poked around at his lasagna and eventually finished it. Isco was silent throughout.

“I’ll call Sonia and ask about some of Junior’s old nannies,” was what Isco eventually said. “Maybe some of them know people in Seville. People we can trust. For when you have to go for training and stuff.”

“Thank you.”

Isco jabbed Franco’s nose with his finger. “You don’t have to thank me, you dumb piece of shit.”

Franco laughed. “Or, you know...maybe I could get my parents to help. They’d love to meet her.”

“Have you told them about her yet? It all happened so fast.”

“Briefly,” Franco said. “I’ll video call them soon.”

“Hey,” Isco whispered. “I know you’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“I just do.”

Franco didn’t know what to say. He never knew what to say whenever Isco spoke to him like this. Like he was the most precious being Isco had ever met in the entire world.

So he just sat there and he held Isco’s hand and he didn’t remember ever feeling this complete.

“Hey,” Isco said, like he didn't want to disrupt Franco's peace. He gestured towards Olivia. “Look at her.”

Franco turned and Olivia was just sprawled out on her back on the mat, staring at the ceiling like she was deep in thought. Her arms were splayed out on both sides, fingers curled and fidgeting. Her legs were the same, spread out wide. Junior was across from her, talking to himself about his toy cars.

“That's a mood,” Franco said.

Isco laughed. “She's probably exhausted. Too much excitement in a day.”

Only five minutes later did Olivia realise she was being watched, and it was only because she rolled onto her side and saw Franco just staring at her. She turned onto her tummy and stretched a hand in his direction, but seemed too lazy to make a move, so she just lied down with her cheek on the mat and stared into space again.

Junior appeared between Isco and Franco, one hand on each of their thighs and peering at them earnestly like he had something important to say.

“What is it, baby?” Isco asked.

“I want to bring her to play inside,” Junior said. “But I can't carry her.”

“Just guide her and she’ll crawl after you,” Isco suggested.

Franco got up and took Junior’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

Junior looked overjoyed and he just hovered around Franco as he picked Olivia up and took her into Junior’s room and put her down again. She sat, confused, until Franco emptied her trunk again and revealed more toys. She picked a big dark green dog, examined it for a while, then cuddled with it while Junior took his time to try and explain cars to her again.

Franco sat on the bed and watched them but Olivia began to put things into her mouth again so he got up and found the pacifier that Isco had sterilised earlier. He gave it another wash with warm water and brought it to Olivia, who immediately got into it, chewing on it so it wobbled at her mouth and made Franco smile.

“Baby, I think she’s tired,” he told Junior when Olivia just gave up and flopped over her green dog. “Why don’t you play with her tomorrow?”

“Okay papi.”

“Keep your toys and go brush your teeth.”

Junior bounded out of the room ahead of them as Franco followed with a tired Olivia in his arms. Junior packed away his own toys while Franco put Olivia’s things back in their box; she was unresponsive at first, but eventually caught the gist enough to help Franco hold on to things as he found places to put them. She seemed particularly attached to the green dog, so Franco let her keep it with her.

“Do you want some milk?” he asked. “Yeah? A little bit of milk?”

Olivia perked up at the sound of that. “Muh,” she said, then nodded.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled.

“Muh,” Olivia repeated. “Yeah.”

Franco kissed her on her tiny button nose and brought her to the kitchen, where Isco was doing the dishes. Olivia just lay in Franco’s arm gazing lovingly up at him as he discussed with Isco about how much milk to give her. Olivia began cooing so they decided on half a bottle, to which she was contented because she grabbed on to Franco’s thumb and finger with her hands and held the milk bottle in place as she suckled.

“I love her,” Franco said.

Isco laughed. “I know,” he said, jiggling Olivia’s cheek with his finger, then pinching Franco’s nose. “Me, too.”

Franco rocked her around the house as she finished her milk, getting drowsier by the minute but still with the happiest half-closed eyes. She eventually let go of Franco's fingers and stretched her arms out, like she was begging Franco to put her in bed.

“How do I brush her teeth?” Franco asked as he wandered back into the kitchen. “Does she need to brush her teeth?”

“Lemme see,” Isco said, wiping his hands on a towel and joining them. He leaned over Olivia. “Do this,” he said, smiling so all his teeth showed.

Olivia was utterly perplexed, reaching out to punch Isco in the nose before letting out a loud yelp.

“Oh,” Isco said, grunting as he took Olivia from Franco. Franco followed as they headed to the bathroom and Isco pointed at their reflections in the mirror and smiled again, gesturing to his mouth. “See what I’m doing? Can you do the same thing? Yeah?”

Olivia stared at him, first in the mirror then in person, head pulled back again and making Franco so _tempted_ to jiggle her chins. She pointed at her own mouth, then when Isco nodded, proceeded to flash all her four teeth at him, two at the top and two at the bottom.

Isco chuckled lovingly. He took a closer look at Olivia’s teeth, then reached for her handkerchief on the counter. “We’re gonna clean your teeth, yeah?” he cooed as he washed it in warm water. “We’re gonna make them nice and shiny, and when you have more teeth then me and papi will teach you how to clean them. Okay? Can you open your mouth for me, baby? Open your mouth.”

Then he opened his mouth and this time Olivia immediately followed, allowing Isco to gently clean her teeth with the wet handkerchief. She tried to reciprocate, her fingertips brushing Isco’s teeth when they were exposed from his smile.

Franco had no doubt she was going to grow up to be the kindest person in the entire world.

“Papi will take you to bed, okay?” he said, passing Olivia back to Franco. “Sweet dreams, little princess.”

Olivia appeared to understand this part of the day. She clasped her hands and held them by her cheek, then glanced questioningly first at Isco, then at Franco.

“Yeah,” Franco said softly, suddenly feeling like he needed to accessorize all his words with some hand gestures so Olivia understood. He placed his free palm on his cheek. “To sleep.”

“Ah,” she said, like she understood that. “Sssssssss.”

Isco burst into loud laughter. “Close enough,” he noted.

“Are you thirsty?” Franco asked Olivia. He gestured at his throat. “Do you want some water?”

Olivia shook her head but Franco was afraid it was only because she didn’t understand so he brought her out to the kitchen and filled her bottle with water. Just as he’d expected, she accepted it and helped herself to a few mouthfuls. Then she pointed at the half-finished bottle and nodded her head.

“She approves,” Isco said.

“C’mon,” Franco laughed. “Say good night to papa. Good night. Say good night.”

“Gunna,” Olivia attempted.

“Give papa a kiss,” Franco said, pointing to Isco’s cheek, then puckering his lips. It worked. “Okay, we’re going to sleep now. Say ‘good night, papa.’”

“Gunna!” she screamed over Franco’s shoulder.

Franco peppered her with kisses all the way to the room, but she refused to be lowered into her cot so Franco held her over his shoulder and sang to her softly until she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Franco put her in her cot and tucked her under her blanket with her green dog.

He stood over her and watched her chest rise and fall with her steady breaths.

He had barely known her for two days, but he was already overwhelmingly convinced that he would never love anyone else more in his life than he loved his Olivia.

The next time he turned to his side, he saw Junior standing next to him, peering through the bars of Olivia’s cot. He smiled at Franco.

“Hi papi,” he whispered.

“Hello,” Franco smiled. “How are you? You brushed your teeth?”

Junior nodded. “Papi can I play with her tomorrow?”

“You can play with her anytime you want, baby. She’s your sister.”

“Okay.”

“Are you happy to have a new sister? Excited?”

Junior nodded again. “I’m very excited. I’m going to teach her many things.”

“Just the good things, okay?”

Junior grinned cheekily. “Okay papi.”

Franco ruffled his hair. “Naughty boy.”

They stood quietly, watching Olivia sleep.

“Papi,” Junior whispered. “I think she’s very pretty.”

“Yeah?” Franco chuckled. He reached in and gently ran his finger over Olivia’s cheek. “Me, too.”

“She got you and papa's good genes.”

Franco didn't have the heart to tell him that this was not how it worked. He simply squatted and adjusted Junior's t-shirt before turning him around and nudging him towards his room. “Go to bed, baby.”

“Good night, papi,” he said, trotting out. “Good night, papa.”

Franco turned and Isco was already in bed, horizontal except for his head propped up by the headboard. “Good night, baby,” he called.

“I told you not to lie down like that,” Franco said, crawling into bed. “Hurts your neck.”

Isco repeated that in a mocking tone so Franco grabbed his ankles and yanked him fully horizontal.

“So how you doin’?” Isco asked as Franco settled down next to him.

“Sorry,” Franco said. “I've been neglecting you all day.”

“Don’t say that,” Isco whispered. “You haven’t. She’s kinda my child, too.”

“She is. Not just kinda.”

Isco smiled. He curled up into a ball and pressed his cheek into his pillow like he was shy.

“Dinner was great,” Franco added.

“Yeah?” Isco gazed at him with. With the brightest, most sparkling eyes, like he always did whenever Franco said something nice about him. Like a puppy who’d just been told he was a good boy. His smile slowly grew. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” Franco whispered. He moved closer to Isco and pressed his lips on Isco’s, and when he pulled away Isco’s eyes were closed peacefully. Franco followed, finding his eyelids getting heavy as the excitement of the day slowly faded. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Before we became...you know – before we got together. I’d always imagined myself doing this alone. But now...Isco. You know? I can’t imagine doing this without you.”

Isco gave a soft chuckle. “You don’t gotta,” he murmured.

Franco heard Isco’s breaths settle like he’d fallen asleep, so he tucked the sheets tightly around him and turned to get his phone. He had no doubt that he would wake up early for one reason or another concerning Olivia, but a part of him still thought that she would just sit quietly in bed so he decided to get up early and check on her.

When he picked up his phone he saw a notification from Instagram: _iscoalarcon tagged you in a post._

It was a series of six photographs of Franco and Olivia; the first one was their family shot outside the orphanage, followed by a photo Isco had taken at the supermarket of Franco and Olivia choosing her diapers where Franco was examining a packet and Olivia was jabbing her chubby finger at another one on the shelf. The third one was the video Isco had taken when Franco was trying to feed Olivia her dinner. Then came one of Olivia lying down on her mat, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling, that scene which Franco had described as a mood. It was followed by Franco feeding Olivia her milk, gazing dreamily at her as she held on to his fingers for dear life. Finally, it was a shot of Franco and Junior’s backs as they leaned over Olivia’s cot watching her sleep.

The caption read, _Welcome home Olivia. Papa and papi love you very much._

Franco double-tapped the photo, turned on his alarm, set his phone aside, and turned back to Isco, whose mouth had fallen open a little as he slept. He wrapped his arm around Isco's and squeezed him close, watching his open mouth slowly and sleepily morph into a smile.

Franco fell asleep easily with that peaceful image in his mind.

\------

Isco only woke up because the bedside light on Franco's side was turned on and it was glaringly bright. He didn't even realise Olivia was crying until he turned to her cot and saw her being rocked in Franco's arms.

“What's wrong?” he asked, struggling to sit up.

“I don't know, she's just crying,” Franco said. “What's wrong? Huh? You're not hungry and your diaper is dry.”

“I didn't even hear her crying,” Isco said, rubbing his eyes.

“She cries really soft.”

“Does she have a fever?”

Franco pressed the back of his hand to Olivia's forehead. “No,” he noted. “What's wrong, baby? Are you confused? Do you know where you are? Oh, maybe she just doesn't know where she is. Yeah? Do you know where you are?”

He held Olivia at arm's length, supporting her head so she just lied comfortably on his forearm. He gently wiped her tears away with his thumb and kissed her on her nose. Then he just talked to her, face to face, like he hoped she would recognise him and be at ease. He looked utterly exhausted.

Isco grabbed his phone and took a photo of the both of them and their bedheads as high as the ceiling. He posted it to his Instagram story with the caption, _Like father like daughter_ , followed by a brain explosion emoji, a timestamp for 1.30 in the morning, Franco’s tag, and arrows pointing to Franco and Olivia's heads.

Olivia stopped crying when Franco started singing to her; she started to drift off as her limbs stopped fidgeting and she allowed Franco to hold her closer to his chest. A few minutes later Franco slowly lowered her into her cot.

“I'm just gonna put you down, okay?” he whispered. “And I'm gonna stand here, where you can see me, so you'll know that this place is safe. Okay? Can we do that? Can you go to sleep? I love you, baby.”

After a while Olivia must've gone to sleep because Franco returned to bed with a sigh and tucked himself in next to Isco. “Thank goodness,” he said.

“Do you know that I’m very proud of you?” Isco said.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled.

“A hundred percent.”

Franco shimmied over and gently pecked him on the lips, afraid as usual of his middle-of-the-night breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Isco grabbed his nose and pinched it hard. “You dumbass.”

Franco giggled. “What time is it anyway?” he asked, reaching for his phone. “Hey, did you paparazzi me again?”

Isco shrugged. He burrowed deeper into the sheets and watched as Franco examined the photograph. “I think you two are made for each other.”

“ _You_ have the same hair,” Franco pointed out, ruffling Isco's hair.

“Disagree,” Isco said.

Franco tutted. He closed his eyes and started drifting back to sleep with the bedside light still on, which would've bothered Isco if not for Franco's own gigantic head blocking it from Isco's view. He ran his fingers through Franco's hair and Franco keened eagerly into his palm.

And then Olivia started to cry again.

Isco didn't hear it at first – he heard it the same instant Franco opened his eyes, awoken by just that tiny little voice. Part of Isco believed he only heard it because his subconscious knew that Franco was so tired that he would only open his eyes for this one reason.

“Hmm,” Franco said, closing his eyes again, even if only for a couple of seconds. “Oh, no.”

“I'll get her,” Isco offered.

“No, I'll go,” Franco said, rolling – literally rolling out of bed and going to Olivia's cot. He picked her up and held her over his shoulder. “Hey. What's up, princess? Can't sleep? Yeah? Papi's here.”

Olivia's sobs subsided as Franco rocked her. She glanced over his shoulder at Isco, keeping eye contact with him as her little grubby hands settled with two handfuls of the hair at the nape of Franco's neck.

Isco made a kissy face at her and she cooed. “Bring her here for a while,” he said.

Franco gingerly climbed back into bed and put Olivia in his lap. “I think she just needs to see us when she wakes up or she'll be scared 'cause she doesn't know where she is.”

“Yeah?” Isco said in his baby voice. He jiggled Olivia's cheek, the one that wasn't pressed on Franco's shoulder. “You miss us when you wake up? Yeah?”

Olivia wrapped all her fingers around one of Isco's fingers and held on, gently shaking it up and down. She cooed softly at Isco again.

“I think she likes me,” Isco said.

“'Course she likes you,” Franco said. “She's already done that nose baptism thing to you. You're the first one she did it to.”

Isco laughed. “Yeah, you're right.”

“And you've got the same hair.”

“Yours is more like hers.”

“No, it isn't.”

“It is. I'll prove it to you.”

Isco took his phone and took a photo of the three of them, Franco and him looking at the camera while Olivia sat on Franco's arm with her back to it, her head turned to the side, distracted by putting Isco's finger into her mouth. The three of them had almost identical bedheads sprouting from the top of their heads. He posted a poll to his Instagram story with the question, _Whose hair does she have?_ with Isco and Franco as the choices.

“You're going to win this,” Franco said. “And I'm not even gonna be mad for losing because I'll be right.”

Isco ignored him. He got up and retrieved a clean handkerchief near Olivia's cot, using it to wipe Olivia's mouth, then his own finger.

“Go to sleep, okay, baby?” he whispered, kissing Olivia on her cheek. “So your papi and me can go to sleep, too. Do you want to hear a song? You want papi to sing a song for you?”

Olivia didn't respond, but Isco urged Franco to sing, anyway. He leaned on Franco's shoulder and Olivia grabbed a handful of his beard, so, well. Isco was just stuck there. He closed his eyes and felt the deep vibrations of Franco's voice as he sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, which was – honestly, it was the most Franco thing Isco could think of, trying to influence his kid to be a space-lover even before she could walk.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up again and Olivia had been transferred to Franco's other shoulder.

“Looks like my singing puts you to sleep, too,” Franco greeted him.

Isco tutted. “Aren’t you going to put her down?” he asked.

“Just a little longer,” Franco murmured, his face buried deep in Olivia’s hair. “Don’t want her to get scared again.”

Isco thought it was an adorable excuse to hold Olivia a little longer.

He tucked all the pillows under Franco’s back and left one for himself, so Franco could recline and let Olivia sprawl out on his chest. She obliged gladly, hooking her hands over Franco's shoulders and tucking her head under his chin.

Isco sighed as he, too, tucked himself into Franco's shoulder, without disturbing Olivia. “Franco,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we're getting boring?”

“What do you mean?” Franco asked, sounding nervous.

“Just...we don't do fun things anymore.”

“You don't have fun with me?”

“It's not that,” Isco said, sitting up. Franco's gaze followed him. “It's just that, you know. We used to fight a lot.”

“You want us to fight more?”

“No, baby,” Isco pinched Franco's nose. “Like...like, you know. It's kinda hot. And exciting. And now it's all gone and we're boring and lovey-dovey like Paulo and Alvaro.”

Franco laughed and the sight of Olivia bobbing on his chest brought a smile to Isco's face. “We still fight a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, 'cause you annoy me all the time.”

“I don't,” Isco said. “Do I?”

“You don't,” it was Franco's turn to squeeze Isco's nose. “We don't have to fight for it to be hot. We're just hot all the time.”

Isco smiled. He lied back down, contented. “That is true,” he said, snuggling up to Franco's shoulder again.

“And we still do fun and exciting things.”

“Like adopt a kid?”

Franco kissed Isco on the forehead. “Exactly.”

“I love you,” Isco whispered.

“I love you, too,” Franco said. “And you can fight me anytime you want.”

“I'll hold you to that,” Isco murmured, earning himself another kiss on the head. “Hey. Franco.”

“Hmm?”

“It's not that I don't want to help you take care of Olivia,” he started slowly. “I mean, it's a little bit that. But it's just – it's more that I want you to have the full experience that you've always wanted. So I wanna let you do it 'cause I want you to have all the fun that me and Sonia had. But if you need any help, I'll always be here. I'll always help you. You just have to ask me. But I want you to be happy, and I want Olivia to be happy, that's all I want, okay?”

Franco smiled. He nodded sleepily. “You don't have to do that, though,” he said. “I want to have fun together with you.”

“We will, yeah,” Isco smiled. “I will always be here.”

“I think she likes you more than she likes me.”

Isco laughed. “Are you saying that in like, a jealous way?”

“No, just an observation.”

“She likes us in different ways,” Isco said. “She likes me for fun and she likes you for comfort and information.”

Franco gladly accepted that. “Yeah, when she looks at you she's like 'time to play!’ but when she looks at me it's for hugs and milk.”

“Hugs and Milk is a good formula brand.”

“It is,” Franco sighed, closing his eyes. “We're gonna be rich.”

“We are.”

Franco suddenly opened his eyes again and turned to Isco. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“It's not just fun, is it?” Franco asked quietly. “It’s also a lot of...other things.”

“You don’t have to worry about me not being around for anything,” Isco whispered. “Fun or not fun. As long as you want me.”

“It’s just that – that this is why I keep feeling like. Like what was I thinking when I thought I could do all of this without you? When I used to think I could do this by myself? I could never. I know I could never. And I’m just – I keep thinking about how close I was to never meeting you. How I could have – I could have never met you in my life. It was so easy for me to just reject being in a relationship with you. And now – now it just makes me so scared because we can be so _close_ to doing something that would change our lives forever but we’d never know. You know? Anyway, what – my point is, I think about who I am today and who I was five years ago, and I always reach the same conclusion.”

“What is it?”

“That my life would completely suck if I had never met you and I would never be the person I am now and I would never have gotten Olivia and even if I did, I would never be able to take care of her by myself.”

“Franco,” Isco said. He rested his head on Franco’s shoulder, next to Olivia’s hand. “You know that you never have to worry about all these things. Yeah? ‘Cause they all happened like they meant to and they can never be undone.”

“It’s just that you’re far better for me than I ever was for myself.”

 _God,_ Isco loved him to tiny bits.

“Does it make you sad?” Isco asked. “That you’ll never know how it’d be like to do this on your own?”

Franco thought about that quietly, then said, softly, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because when I think about it, it’s just a life without you.”

Isco slapped him on the arm, careful not to jostle Olivia. “That’s not the question.”

Franco laughed. “It doesn’t make me sad. Because I’m living it out somewhere. Maybe that alternate Franco doesn’t know yet that he’s going to adopt. Because he doesn’t have you to push him along.”

Isco smiled. “You know what?” he said. “I am a hundred percent sure that you’d be as good of a parent even if you had done this on your own.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise.”

Franco sighed. “You know what?” it was his turn to say. “You’re right. We’re becoming less hot and more gross like Paulo and Alvaro.”

“Of course I’m right,” Isco giggled. “I’m always right.”

Franco rolled his eyes and Isco instantly knew that the spark was still there between them, it was just that they were so much more mature now and there were just other things that came first. But he would never, ever stop having fun with his Franco.

“Maybe I should put her back in bed,” Franco whispered.

“Yeah.”

“But I don’t wanna.”

Isco smiled. He kissed first Olivia, then Franco, on the cheek. “Go,” he urged.

Franco rolled out of bed again, more gently this time, and stood next to Olivia’s cot just planting quiet little kisses all over her face. Then he set her down, standing over her for a few moments to make sure she didn’t wake up.

“Hey,” he said when he crawled back into bed, smiling as he saw Isco all tucked in with only his head showing. “It’s not that I’m saying single dads are less capable, you know? ‘Cause I’m sure they're just as capable. It’s just that – maybe over all this time I’ve just realised that it’s not for me.”

“Yeah,” Isco said, suddenly sleepy again. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. People change. They learn and they understand themselves better. You shouldn’t deny yourself that.”

Franco kissed him, first lightly on the lips then all over his face the same way he was doing to Olivia just a couple of seconds ago. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Shhhh,” Isco sighed, melting into Franco’s tight embrace. “Don’t let Olive hear you.”

Franco laughed and it was the most delightful sound.

Isco fell asleep to that sound, thinking that maybe it was the reason he slept so well every night.

\------

Isco won the poll. Franco would _not_ shut up about it for the entire day.

\------

Two mornings later, it was time for Isco and Junior to finally return to Madrid.

Franco had been right about Olivia; she didn’t particularly make any noise in the morning, just lay in her cocoon of pillows and blankets and waited for someone to come and get her. She kicked her legs at whoever appeared at her cot first, begging to be carried.

Franco had tried facetiming his parents so they could meet Olivia but her flailing arms meant that she hit the ‘end call’ button while trying to say hello way too many times for Franco to bother trying again. Nevertheless, since Franco had told them the moment Carlos had called, they already had a flight booked to Seville arriving in the evening of the day Isco was returning to Madrid.

Isco and Franco were early to the train station, so they sat on a bench and ate their breakfast out of baggies while Junior decided he'd try to feed Olivia some steamed eggs.

“Sorry I can't stay to meet your parents,” Isco said.

“Don't be silly,” was Franco's response. “You've met them, like, six thousand times.”

“At least you won't be alone for too long.”

Franco smiled. He wrapped an arm around Isco and pecked him on the lips. “I love you, Olivia's papa.”

Isco laughed and it was the happiest sound Franco had ever heard. “Love you too, papi.”

“Thank you,” Franco whispered. “You know? For everything.”

Isco smiled, setting his baggie in his lap and sliding closer to Franco. He endearingly rubbed Franco's stubble with one of his palms. “Silly. I love you.”

Franco kissed him on the lips, distracted by them and forgetting about his breakfast. He sat watching Isco eat innocently, unaware that Franco was being a creep. Isco was. He was so candid. He was so candid and natural and Franco loved seeing every part of his soul.

Junior soon got tired and came back to the two of them, holding the Tupperware of mangled steamed eggs. He looked like he'd just fought an entire battle on his own.

“Papa I don't want to do this anymore,” he said, handling the container and spoon to Isco.

Isco burst into laughter. “I'll do it,” he said, moving over in front of Olivia's pram.

Junior sat down next to Franco and took his breakfast when Franco handed it to him. “What's up?” Franco asked.

“She grab the egg,” Junior said, clenching his fist in front of him and holding it up towards Franco. “Like this.”

Franco couldn't help but laugh. “She made you all dirty?”

“Yes.”

“You'll learn how to feed her over time. You just gotta be patient and distract her while you're feeding her so she won't grab things.”

“How do I distract her?”

Franco gestured to Isco, who had moved to squat in front of Olivia's pram with his elbows propped up on the front. He was pretending the spoon was an airplane flying into Olivia's mouth, and motivated her by doing a little wiggly dance with her each time she took a mouthful of egg.

“I can do that,” Junior said, a little indignantly, like he was telling Franco not only Isco could do that.

“Next time you're here, you'll feed her all her meals.”

“Okay papi. I'll practice.”

“With whom? With papa?”

“Yeah I practice with papa.”

Franco wasn't too sure Isco would agree to that, but. “Okay.”

Franco watched Junior eat his breakfast. He was just as intriguing to watch as Isco was. Franco took out his phone and took a photo of Junior, then opened Instagram and started taking a video. Junior said hi when Franco asked, then Franco turned the camera to Isco and Olivia, who were in the midst of doing their synchronised dance. He posted it with a red heart emoji.

“Papi,” Junior said, fiddling with the last piece of his grilled sandwich and making his hands all oily. “Will you come to visit us?”

“Of course,” Franco smiled. “Olivia has to see her other home.”

Junior beamed. “Papi, you don't forget me, okay?”

Franco ruffled Junior's hair. He knew that despite how accommodating Junior was being, there was definitely still a part of him that was insecure. It was just natural for a little boy. “I will never forget you no matter what happens,” Franco said, wrapping an arm around Junior and hugging him close.  

“Papi you promise.”

“Yeah. I promise.”

Junior finished his breakfast, contented. Olivia finished hers, too, and started drinking water quietly with a straw, dribbling all over her bib as Isco watched adoringly.

“Come on,” Franco said, dragging Junior by the arm to where Isco and Olivia were. “Let’s go or you’ll miss the train.”

Isco played peekaboo with her all the way to the platform, popping behind the hood of her pram, and Franco wondered why until they got there and he lifted Olivia out of her pram to say goodbye.

“Say bye bye to papa,” he said, waving his hand at Isco so Olivia would follow. “Say 'bye bye.’”

Olivia's brow furrowed as Isco waved back at them. She stared at Isco, then at Franco, then back at Isco.

“Aaahhhhhh!” she exclaimed in disagreement.

Isco burst into laughter. “I'll be back,” he said, putting his hands over his face and then uncovering it. “Yeah? Just like this. Really quickly. I'll be back.”

“Say 'bye bye,’” Franco whispered, gently shaking Olivia as she sat on his arm.

Olivia waved hesitantly at Isco. Isco went behind his hands again, then popped right back. Franco told Olivia to say bye again and the whole process repeated. Soon they were quite convinced that Olivia knew this 'bye bye’ wasn't permanent, so Franco put her down on the floor and asked her to say it to Junior. This one seemed easier for her and she waved at Junior with her tiny hand when Junior waved. She probably just thought of him as a little appendage that came along with Isco and Franco who occasionally fed her food.

“Bye, Franny,” Isco said, leaning over to kiss Franco on the lips, then Olivia on the cheeks. “I love you. Call me.”

Franco smiled. He was. This was always the hardest part of every time Isco or him travelled to visit. And it was made harder this time because of Olivia. But Franco knew – he knew that Isco had his own life in Madrid, a life which after five years was still some degree of separate from Franco’s. And he had to let him go.

“I love you,” Franco said.

Isco took Olivia and started whispering to her about seeing her soon, and she was completely mesmerised by him, watching his lips move, so Franco squatted down in front of Junior.

“You never have to worry about me forgetting you, okay?” Franco smiled.

Junior smiled back. “Okay papi.”

“You know, you and Olivia, you're not just toys where when I get a new one, I'll forget the old one, you know? You two mean so much to me and you mean different things to me. I've known you for so long and you let me be your papi first and that's an experience, that's a part of my life that I will never forget. I'm so glad that I got to do with you all the things – everything we got to do together. You know? Yeah? And Olivia means differently to me because she has no one else in this world, no one except you and me and papa. And it's my job to give her everything she needs. I'm not replacing you with her. It will never be that. It's that now I have two of you and I love the both of you and you never have to worry about me not loving you as much as I always have because it will never, ever change and it will never, ever be over.”

Junior's smile grew until his teeth showed, save for his two front teeth, which had yet to grow back. “Papi,” he said earnestly, his hand grabbing the folded end of one of Franco's sleeves. “I think that you have too much love for me. You have to give some to Olivia.”

Franco laughed, though. Though he felt like there was this nostalgia tugging at his heart. Sometimes Junior just made him want to cry. “I'm going to call you every day so you'll get sick of me, okay?”

“Okay,” Junior agreed. “I love you papi.”

“I love you, too,” Franco said, opening his arms. “C'mere. A hug so you won't miss me too much.”

Junior walked straight into his arms and. And Franco realised how much he missed the time when Junior was still a tiny little baby who barely knew how to walk but still afforded Franco the same enthusiasm as he did on that day. But he was so proud, so proud that Junior had blossomed into the intelligent and mature boy that he was.

“Train's here,” Isco called, trying to hand Olivia to Franco. “C'mon, baby. Time to go home.”

“Say 'bye bye,’” Franco urged Olivia again, nudging her chubby arm.

Olivia waved at Isco, waiting eagerly for him to do peekaboo again. Isco hauled Junior by the armpits over the platform gap and into the train, then proceeded to play peekaboo with Olivia through the windows, ducking below them out of sight and then popping up again a few steps away. Olivia was _ecstatic_ , clapping her hands and waving as Franco carried her down the length of the train, lugging her pram along. She burst into excited laughter when Isco lifted Junior to join him.

“Wave at them,” Franco said, waving. “Let's just wave. Yeah? Wave.”

“Way,” Olivia agreed, waving her hand as Isco and Junior settled into their seats. Isco had his phone out and looked to be taking a photo or video or whatever, who even knew with him; he waved at them over it and Franco waved back.

“This is a lot of waving for one morning,” Franco remarked.

“Way,” Olivia said again.

Franco chuckled. “Okay.”

Their little game of waving and peekaboo-ing ended when the train pulled out of the station a couple of minutes later. Olivia stared at the back of the train, confused, then turned to Franco. She gestured towards it, then tilted her head like she was asking Franco what was going on because Isco hadn't reappeared from his last peekaboo.

“It's bye bye,” Franco said. “They're going home but they'll be back.”

Olivia turned back to the direction of the train and then gave a little gasp when she realised it had disappeared and she had been thoroughly fooled. “Aaaaaahhhhhh!” she yelled angrily, pounding her fist on Franco's shoulder.

“Here,” Franco said, taking out his phone, whose wallpaper was a photo of himself and Isco. “There he is. Papa's here.”

Olivia grabbed the phone eagerly and held it with both her hands, refusing to return it to Franco. She stared at the photo with a furrowed brow like she was about to give it a score out of a hundred. She gave a yelp when the screen turned off, so Franco turned it on for her again.

“Do you know which one is papa and which one is papi?” he asked. “Yeah? Which one's papi?”

Olivia examined the photo for a few moments and then placed one of her thumbs over Franco's face in the photo. Then she turned to Franco and blinked a few times.

“Pi,” she said, letting go of the phone with one hand and using it to tap Franco's nose.

She was right and Franco was elated, but the phone clattered to the ground from her hand so he bent over to pick it up. Thankfully, it hadn't broken. He held it with one hand and used the other to point at Isco in the wallpaper. “Who's this one?”

“Ya,” Olivia said. She raised her hand and waved at nothing. “Buh.”

Franco guessed he could accept that answer for now.

There was still time before Franco's parents arrived, so Franco brought Olivia home to chill for a bit. He set her in her play area while he put her new high chair together, and she played by herself obediently for the most part until she noticed Franco with the almost-completed chair, after which she completely abandoned her toys and just sat where she was watching Franco with the biggest eyes.

“Do you like it?” Franco asked. “Yeah? It's pretty?”

Olivia stared at him like she was trying to process what he'd said. Then she stretched out an arm and silently beckoned Franco to go and fetch her.

Franco scooped her off the ground and put her in her new chair. She seemed happy with it, kicking her legs in their holes and gently banging her fists on the attached table. Then she opened her mouth, jabbed a finger at it, and said, “Mum mum.”

“You know that this is your food chair, huh?” Franco smiled, smoothening her curls only to have them pop back up. “You're a smart girl, huh?”

“Mum mum!” Olivia repeated, more impatiently.

Franco got a jar of baby food out of the fridge and brought it over to Olivia with a plastic spoon. He opened it and set it on the table and Olivia immediately knew what to do, sticking the spoon inside and sloppily shoveling some of the yellow apple-flavoured goo into her mouth. Franco hurried to get her bib on; fortunately he made it in time because it was almost instantly splattered with some of the food as it fell from her mouth. She finished the small jar of food in no time at all and stuck her finger inside so she could lick the remnants.

Franco put her back in her play area when she was done so he could clean up and wash her bib. “Do you want to take a nap?” he asked as he wiped the chair down with a cloth. “Are you tired?”

Olivia's only response to that was to try and repeat it in the same tone. She dug in her box until she found her teddy from the orphanage. Then she lay down draped over it and just watched Franco.

“Okay,” Franco said, chuckling. “But if you fall asleep you're going to bed.”

Olivia didn't fall asleep; instead she really just laid there and watched Franco, even if Franco didn't do anything except put the high chair away and settle on the sofa to watch TV. He eventually waved at her to come over, wanting to see if she would crawl because she hadn't actually shown that she could crawl yet.

Olivia got up and got on her knees. She flung her teddy in front of her and crawled to it, repeating it until she got near to Franco. She crawled to Franco's feet, reached for the sofa seat, and hauled herself up into a standing position. Then she tried to climb on the sofa but failed, her little diapered butt stuck in mid-air as she struggled.

“Ahhhhh,” she whined.

Franco grabbed her and put her on his lap, where she settled happily, playing with Franco's collar. Franco tried to separate her curls but didn't succeed.

“How are you feeling?” Franco asked, straightening the edges of her dress. “You feeling good? Is your diaper full? Are you hungry?”

Olivia didn't respond, distracted instead by the short hairs of Franco's beard. Then she moved down to the buttons on his shirt, picking at them with her tiny fingers.

“How will I know?” Franco whispered. “How will I know if I'm doing it right? You're so quiet. What if you're hurting somewhere? Will you tell me? I won't know if you're hurting. Will you just solve it yourself like you did with your foot? What if you're supposed to be hitting a milestone in your life but you haven't and I don't know it? Like, if you're supposed to be talking or walking, or you're supposed to know how to do things? How will I know?”

Olivia raised her head to look at Franco when he stopped talking. He offered her a weak smile.

She jabbed a finger in the direction of her teddy on the floor, which she hadn't managed to bring up on the couch with her. When Franco didn't get it, she crawled off his lap and to the very end of the sofa, pointed her finger harder, and exclaimed, “Pi!”

Franco laughed, hugging her to his chest as he got up and retrieved the teddy for her. “You'll tell me, won't you?” he asked. “You'll let me know if it hurts somewhere. You'll definitely let me know. And you’ll grow at your very own unique pace and you're going to be such a special girl.”

Olivia's only response was to curl herself around her teddy and fall asleep snuggled in Franco's chest.

Franco thought he only felt this way because he hadn't been with Olivia as her dad since she was born and because of that there was some form of trust that was missing between them. The kind that would've been present between a parent and their child who depended on them for everything since their first day of existence. A child whose parents had given them everything they needed even though they hadn't asked. The kind of trust that allowed a parent to believe their child would come to them with a problem; the kind that allowed a child to believe their parent could solve their problem. Olivia hadn't had that with Franco. She probably already trusted the people at the orphanage more than she did Franco.

But Franco thought maybe he was already beginning to see the ways Olivia was opening up to trusting him.

“You'll tell me if you have a boo boo, yeah?” Franco whispered, gently running a finger down Olivia's cheek.

Olivia fidgeted in her sleep, and then decided that the weight of Franco's finger on her cheek was irritating and so grabbed it in her fist and lifted it off. She continued holding on to it, though, as she slept.

 _God_ , Franco just loved her _so much._

He took his phone from the coffee table and saw that Isco had sent him a few photos from the previous day and that morning. He picked two of them; one a still shot of Franco and Olivia in their matching wine red flannel shirt and dark red dress, waving through the train window and smiling, and the other of Franco kneeling next to his bed and entertaining Olivia with some hand clapping after he'd just changed her diaper. Then he took a selfie with Olivia fast asleep on his chest, and posted the three on his Instagram with the caption, _Please never forget that papi loves you to the ends of the earth, forever._

Isco was the very first person to like his post.

Franco had never felt so full in his life.

\------

Olivia greeted her grandparents the same way she greeted anyone else: she pulled her head back and examined them thoroughly with her furrowed brow.

Franco's parents greeted her the same way anyone would: by jiggling her fifty chins.

She was the first girl child in their family. In fact, she was the first girl child in both their family and Isco's family.

They spent all day with her in her play corner trying to teach her how to walk. Olivia was quiet and accommodating, even when she was tired or hungry. Franco’s parents didn't pay Franco any attention at all, unlike all the other times they'd been over the Atlantic.

Franco found himself not minding it even one bit.

\------

Paulo started individual training when the last week of August started.

He thought it was good for him, honestly, though he still felt mentally exhausted. It seemed to distract him from that fact.

He stayed in the gym most of the time, on the treadmill overlooking the training pitch. Even with his compression bandage on he could barely afford to lift a few sets of weights before there was a ripping feeling in his forearm that scared him enough to stop.

Sometimes he was tired of it all.

In the evening, when most of everyone else had gone home, Paulo would go outside and shoot balls into an empty net.

Then he would lie down on the pitch and look up at the evening sky, wondering if Alvaro was also looking at it.

Mariano would drive to fetch him when he called. They would go home and have a quiet dinner and Paulo would call his mom long-distance and she would talk to him like she knew he didn't know what to say.

The very last day of August was a Tuesday. Paulo remembered every detail of that day. He thought he would never, ever forget it.

He dragged out his solo evening kickaround longer than usual. By the time he was finished, the field was pitch-black and Mariano had sent him a text asking if he was ready to go home.

Paulo texted him back, _ten minutes_ , then got his things from his locker and spent his ten minutes standing still under the hot shower.

When he returned to his locker, Federico was sitting at it, his phone held close to his face.

“Hey,” Paulo said, sitting in the remainder of the seat as Federico scooted over a little. Paulo’s locker was right near the exit, so it was probably why Federico was there and not at his own.

“Oh, hey,” Federico replied. He seemed. Maybe it was just Paulo’s mind playing tricks on him, but his teammates seemed to tread so much more lightly since they were told the news of what happened to Paulo.

Paulo wasn’t sure what to feel about that.

“I didn’t know you were still around,” Paulo said.

“I’m waiting for my ride,” Federico said. He peeled his eyes away from his phone and smiled at Paulo. “How are you? We miss you at training.”

“I’ll join you soon,” Paulo said, completely avoiding his question.

“You’d better,” Federico grinned. He looked like. He looked like the sun and his smile made Paulo feel so comfortable.

Paulo seemed so much more sensitive to small things like this.

They sat there in silence until Federico’s phone buzzed and he stood up.

“My ride’s here,” he told Paulo, before slowly walking over to him and hesitantly hugging Paulo’s head to his chest. “I think your life’s only going to get better starting from today.”

“How do you know?” Paulo asked.

“Just do,” he said cheerily, pulling away and winking at Paulo. “See ya.”

“Bye,” Paulo said softly, but Federico was already out of the door.

Paulo sat in the heavy silence that he left behind.

He slowly put on his jeans and his t-shirt.

His socks slid clumsily over his still-damp feet.

Suddenly, Winnie appeared in the doorway across from Paulo.

Paulo blinked at her, wondering if he was hallucinating from his meds.

He wished Federico was still around so he could ask him if he was also seeing this tiny golden dog.

Winnie plopped her butt down, her tail thumping once on the floor. Her tongue fell out of her mouth as she smiled. There was a red ribbon on her head, in front of her ear.

“Hello,” Paulo said, softly, still afraid he was just going fucking mental. “Where's – where's daddy?”

Winnie gave a single woof, then got on her feet and trotted proudly over to Paulo. She got up on her hind legs and placed her paws on Paulo's knees, asking him to pick her up.

Paulo put her in his lap. She was bigger than he remembered and her fur was a little longer. Now that Paulo was touching her he felt more convinced that she was real.

She was wearing a red collar that matched her ribbon. It had nothing on it except a plain silver ring.

Paulo glanced towards the doorway and, as if on cue, there was a husky puppy sitting there.

“Hello,” Paulo said again. The puppy tilted its head to the side. “Who’s this?”

The puppy exchanged glances with Winnie, whom it seemed to know. Then it slowly got up and walked over to Paulo, sniffing at Paulo’s feet. It slowly moved up Paulo’s calf, and then its nose was resting on Paulo’s thigh as it gazed at Paulo with its aquamarine blue eyes waiting for Paulo to hold it.

Paulo lifted it up onto the seat. It was the same size as Winnie, if not a little bit smaller. It had the same red ribbon at its ear and the same red collar.

From its collar hung a bone-shaped dog tag with a single engraved word.

_Yes._

Paulo turned to the door again, and.

And Alvaro was there, his head peeking out from behind the frame. He smiled at Paulo as he slowly entered the doorway.

He was wearing a grey Juventus training shirt.

Paulo almost burst into tears when he saw Alvaro. Not because he was wearing a Juventus shirt for some reason, but because he was _there_.

“Alvi,” he whispered.

“Hey,” Alvaro smiled. Paulo felt his fingers tightening around both puppies, so he consciously loosened his grip.

They stared at each other silently for a few minutes.

Alvaro knelt on the floor in front of Paulo, lifting Winnie off the seat and holding her. “Do you recognise this ring?” he asked. When Paulo didn’t respond, he continued. “It’s the ring you gave me. The ring you – you wanted to give me.”

Paulo swallowed so hard his throat hurt.

Alvaro put Winnie down; she melted over his thigh and rested her nose on the ground. He picked up the husky and held the dog tag for Paulo to see again. _Yes._

“This is my answer,” Alvaro said.

Paulo’s heart stopped.

Alvaro put the husky down next to Winnie and reached for his back pocket, from which he pulled out a red felt box. He opened it and. And in it was sitting another ring, a silver band almost identical to the one on Winnie’s collar save for the small diamond embedded in it. Behind it in the box stood the original dog tag that Paulo had used, the one that read, _Will you marry me?_

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered. “Will you marry me? Will you let me try and make you happy for the rest of your life?”

Paulo suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe.

Not because he wanted to say no, but because of how badly he wanted to say yes.

“You want to marry me?” he asked.

Alvaro nodded earnestly. “I'm moving here,” he said. “I moved here. I signed the contract today.”

August 31st. The day the transfer window closed.

“I spent twelve years trying to justify everything I did by saying that it would be good for you,” Alvaro said softly. “I don't want to do that anymore. You know what's best for yourself. And now, we can finally try and accomplish that together. We can finally make it happen, my Paulito.”

Paulo smiled and. And that simple facial movement drove him to tears. He collapsed on his knees on the ground, across from Alvaro, and took one of Alvaro's hands.

"You're moving here for me?"

Alvaro smiled, and. And Paulo's entire heart melted. "Yeah."

“Why do you still want to marry me?”

“Because I love you,” Alvaro put the ring box on the ground and used both his hands to cup Paulo's face. His voice was getting quieter, like. Like he was getting scared Paulo would say no. “And I always will. It's not your tantrums that make me give in to you. I just want you to know that about this. Look at us, okay? There's no tantrum today. It's just so, so important that you know this, okay?”

Paulo nodded.

Alvaro smiled. “I've always thought of this. Moving back to Juve and getting to live with you and marry you. It was always part of my plan. That's why when you asked, it completely threw me off guard, and I – I set off this entire mess, and I – I can never truly explain how sorry I am. But there has never been a doubt in my mind that this was what I was going to do. It was just a few months more. We just had to wait a couple months and then I'd be living with you and I'd be marrying you. Paulo. I want you to know that I would never abandon you. I wouldn't have gone back to London this end of summer if I hadn't had to settle the paperwork and the things with my apartment so I could move to Turin. I would never have left you. I will always – I will never leave your side if I can help it. What you think about yourself, what you're trying to cope with – it doesn't change what I think about you. I love you and I love every part of you, every scar, every place it hurts. You are my favourite. You won't ever stop being my favourite. And now I feel like we are in a good place to do this. We are finally in a good place to do this. I'm sorry that it took so long for us to get here. But we're here now, and I love you, and I have never stopped loving you and I want to be by your side forever. I know that you feel like it's always just been you trying your best to move where I am while I just sit around so now, now I'm moving to you. I know that you're only going to get stronger every single day and I know that I've largely been wrong about what's best for you but I hope that I can continue to try my best every day and I hope that I can make you feel like life is worth it. You and me getting married – that’s always been our endgame. It’s always been. I can’t possibly think of any other ending for the two of us. I told you I was going to marry you in 2021. I haven't forgotten that and I hate that I made you think I'd forgotten. I haven't. Now it's 2021 and I'm asking you. Paulo Dybala, will you marry me?”

Paulo nodded.

He couldn't possibly fathom any other response.

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

“Always yes,” Paulo whispered back. He lifted the husky and flashed its collar at Alvaro. “Yes.”

Alvaro broke into a smile, then a soft chuckle. “That's not her name, though. Her name isn't Yes.”

“It's a girl?” Paulo asked. “What's her name?”

“Robin.”

“Like Christopher Robin?”

Alvaro beamed. “Mmhmm. Like Christopher Robin.”

Like Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin.

Paulo loved Alvaro so fucking much.

“So Winnie will have a best friend for life,” Alvaro continued. “Just like how you are mine.”

Paulo gently touched a finger to Alvaro's cheek. “I already said yes,” he said. “You don't have to say these things anymore.”

“They're true, so I'm just gonna keep saying them. I wanna say them.”

“You know what I want?”

“What?” Alvaro asked, and he looked so _serio_ us like he thought there was something he could do for Paulo even though all Paulo wanted was – well.

“I want my ring,” Paulo said, holding out his hand. “Put on my ring for me.”

So Alvaro did just that, and it fit Paulo perfectly and it was the most reassuring weight on his finger.

“Put mine on,” Alvaro said, wiggling his fingers at Paulo.

Paulo undid the ring from Winnie's collar and slid it on Alvaro's finger.

“I love you,” he told Alvaro.

Alvaro leaned forward and softly pressed his lips on Paulo's, and. And it lit Paulo's entire body on fire. He crawled eagerly into Alvaro's lap and just. Just sat there, straddling his hips, reveling in the taste of his lips.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered.

“You know I'm a different – I'm different from how I was before.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. His hand carded through Paulo's hair. “We're both different. Twelve years have passed. We have to be different.”

“I mean – just different. The more recent different”

“Doesn't change anything for me.”

“I love you, Alvi.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro kissed the back of Paulo's hand. “This is the one thing I'm glad hasn't been any different over the years.”

“Are you sure you wanna marry me?”

“Well, I asked, didn't I?”

Paulo smiled. He leaned on Alvaro's chest, his head resting in the crook of Alvaro's neck. “Thank you for loving me and taking care of me.”

Alvaro chuckled, his lips warm against Paulo's ear. “Silly,” he whispered, arms tight around Paulo. “Thank you. For everything.”

Paulo let himself melt into Alvaro's arms for a while before he remembered Mariano waiting for him outside.

“Alvi, I need to go,” he said, trying to stand up. “Mariano's waiting for me outside.”

“He isn't,” Alvaro said, tugging on Paulo's arm so he'd sit back down. “He's in on it.”

“Is he?” Paulo asked. “Who else is in on it?”

“Everyone you can think of.”

Paulo gasped. “Berna?”

Alvaro rolled his eyes. “I met him on the way here. I couldn't explain why I was here and wearing a Juve shirt without telling him. Then he asked if he could hold the puppies so I made him sit here and text me when you were done showering as a return to the favour of holding the puppies.”

 _God,_ no wonder he was being so fucking _cryptic._

Federico's head popped out in the doorway. “I heard my name,” he said. “Can I hold them now?”

Alvaro made a gesture at the puppies and Federico practically leapt on them, like he'd never seen a dog in his life. Which was ironic, given how he had two of his own.

“How old is she?” Paulo asked.

“About a couple weeks younger than Winnie. Someone brought her and her siblings to the shelter 'cause their mom gave birth and they didn't want the puppies.”

“Why didn't you name her Piglet? Piglet is also Pooh's best friend.”

“You wanna name a dog Piglet?” Alvaro wrinkled his nose. “Okay. We'll name her Piglet if you want.”

Paulo laughed. “It's okay. I like Robin more.”

“Oh my God!” Alvaro exclaimed. “I should have gotten a pug and named her Puglet.”

He looked so utterly _devastated_ that he hadn't thought of that earlier that Paulo couldn't help but laugh again. “I prefer Robin,” he repeated.

“Really?” Alvaro asked.

“Promise.”

“I also prefer Robin,” Federico chimed in, now lying on the ground and letting the dogs sniff him all over.

“You're kinda ruining our moment,” Alvaro remarked.

“Fine, I'll leave,” Federico said, getting up and straightening his shirt. “But you have to let me and Wendy and Spike come over to play.”

“Sure,” Paulo said as Alvaro playfully rolled his eyes again.

Before Federico could leave, Alvaro made him take a few photos for them. Only one of the photos really caught Alvaro's eye, making him coo over it as Paulo sat and watched him adoringly.  

In the photo, they sat cross-legged on the floor with their backs against Paulo's locker, Paulo holding Robin and Alvaro holding Winnie. They were holding hands in between them; Alvaro had to switch his ring to his other hand so it showed in the photo. They'd just kissed, so their faces were an inch apart, their heads pressed together, and Paulo's eyes were still closed but Alvaro's were open and his lips were upturned as he gazed at Paulo with hooded eyes. The Juventus logo on Alvaro's shirt peeked out from behind Winnie's ear. The sides of the photo framed Paulo and Alvaro's shoulders perfectly, showing nothing beyond them. Paulo's locker extended vertically upwards behind them. Pinned to its back wall was a large photo of Paulo and Alvaro smiling at the camera, which they took some months ago.

Paulo watched as Alvaro excitedly posted it on his Instagram with a simple two-worded caption.

_My future._


End file.
